


When Things Go Right

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Time, M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Texting, at the beginning, bc that was a fun experiement, bc there's also texting in this, meaning he's in an orphanage, then it skips to their senior year and he's ~not at an orphanage~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12031545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Keith grows up in an orphanage and befriends The Group in sixth grade. Skip to senior year and he's hopelessly in love with Lance and still very much in the closet.





	When Things Go Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melancholymango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/gifts), [FangirlKats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlKats/gifts).



> hi guys!! i've been using this fic to procrastinate for the last few weeks whenever i was supposed to be doing college application stuff or homework so :)) this entire thing is the baby of procrastination ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> i really hope you enjoy! comments are appreciated <3
> 
> (gifted to kali and kat bc it's fun to gift things ily)

Keith huffed, pressing his nose against the dirty window and feeling the cold from the glass seep into his skin. It was that time of the year where he really began to wish he had a thicker jacket or that the orphanage could afford to turn up the heat. Sadly neither of these things were true, and so he stood there shivering, his fingers and toes as cold as they always seemed to be lately.

He really had no business being up this early. School didn’t start for another hour at least and half the other orphanage kids were dedicated to showing up late or skipping school entirely. The school staff barely seemed to care about whether they showed up or not, but Keith always went. Not because he had friends or even because the school was much warmer than the orphanage, but because he loved to learn. Even when he was taking notes in his crappy, school provided notebook, or scrounging around the school for a spare pencil, he could barely find it in himself to care. He just liked learning.

Keith knew from experience that if he left right now and showed up at the school after a fifteen minute walk, the front doors would still be locked. The school didn’t officially open until 8:00, but even then, no teachers usually showed up to open up the doors before 8:15. And so, knowing this, Keith was utterly confused when he saw Lance McClain walk past the window, his shoulders hunched against the cold wind, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Really, there was no reason for him to be surprised. He stood here every morning, watched Lance walk past the window at this time every school day, and always felt a spark of curiosity go off inside him. Why did this boy leave his house, wherever it was, so early every day? What did he do when he got to school much too early and was inevitably locked out? And why did Keith never see him standing around when he left too early as well?

Keith let out a sudden, strangled yell when two hands clamped around his face before tugging on his hair. He succumbed to wrestling, someone getting him into a headlock while he struggled against them, practically growling.

“Let go!” he gasped.

“Why are you so excited for school, huh?” It was Rolo. He seemed to think he was so much better than Keith simply because he was older than him. While Keith was in the sixth grade, Rolo was in eighth, and took great pride in that fact, for some reason. As if he hadn’t been in sixth grade just two years previously.

“Get off!” Keith bit out, before elbowing Rolo in the stomach and escaping when he groaned. Rolo wouldn’t dare tell Miss Carol that Keith had hurt him, because he knew Keith would just tell on him right back. And so he settled for glaring at Keith.

Afraid Rolo would try to make another move at him, Keith ducked around him and ran for the front door, letting it slam behind him. He’d get in trouble for that later, he was sure.

An annoyed huff left Keith’s mouth after he’d finished sprinting down the street, sure that Rolo wasn’t following him. He hadn’t been able to grab his backpack before leaving the orphanage, which either meant a day of no note taking or working up the courage to ask someone for a pencil and paper, which most likely wasn’t going to end up happening.

Glaring at his feet as he walked, Keith considered turning back for his backpack altogether. Plus, while the orphanage had been cold, it was infinitely colder outside. His thin sweater, riddled with holes, did nothing to shield him from the morning breeze. He was broken out of his thoughts, however, when he bumped into something strangely solid, something that let out an, “Oof!”

“Sorry!” Keith said hastily, looking up from his feet. He felt himself go red when he came face to face with Lance McClain, who was staring at him curiously.

“S’okay,” Lance murmured, sounding tired. His hood was pulled up over his head, the reason for which Keith just then became aware of: a cold, fat water droplet landed on his own cheek, sliding down his face like a tear. Keith wiped it away.

“Keith, right?” Lance asked. They were in the same grade but they only shared one class together, and Keith never spoke up in class—he was surprised Lance even knew his name. Meanwhile, Keith was sure there wasn’t an entire person in their grade who didn’t know Lance. He wasn’t exactly popular, per se, but he spoke up so often and got in so much trouble that you couldn’t share a class with him without hearing the teacher say “Lance!” at least four times a day.

“Yeah,” Keith said hastily, realizing he’d blanched when Lance had said his name. “Keith Kogane.” Keith loved his last name—it was one of the only things he actually owned. Everything in the orphanage was shared between them—toys and books and bedrooms; Keith wasn’t even the only _Keith_ , only his last name was his own.

“Lance,” Lance said, jabbing his chest with his thumb. Keith just nodded, as if he didn’t already know this. His hair was wet with rain now, and Keith suspected he might end up getting a cold. The caretakers at the orphanage wouldn’t be happy—people were getting sick all the time and there was hardly ever enough medicine to go around.

The crosswalk sign ahead of them turned green, and together they crossed the street, side by side. Keith realized quite suddenly that they were going to have to walk to school together. It’d be weird if he dropped back just to walk behind Lance, and even weirder still if he sped off without him. Was he going to have to keep up a conversation for the entire walk!? He couldn’t do that!

“Aren’t you cold?” Lance asked, eyeing him over. Keith shrunk into himself uncomfortably. It was no secret that he was from the orphanage, but still, not everybody actually _knew_. He wore variations of the same outfit day in and day out, never any warmer than this one.

“No,” Keith lied, because he didn’t need to be pitied by a boy who surely had a warm home and a loving family.

Lance hummed. “Want my gloves?”

“What?” But Lance was already taking them off, already holding them out to Keith and shaking them slightly.

“I have hundreds,” he said easily, and a smile was tugging at his lips, changing his entire expression from sleepy to absolutely beautiful. “My mom loves to knit, so…”

Unsure what else to do other than to take the proffered gloves, Keith did just that. He slipped his hands into the black knitted material and gave Lance a small nod. They were already warm, from both Lance’s skin and from being shoved in his pockets, and Keith relished in the warmth.

“So why do you go to school early all the time?” Keith asked, his steps feeling more natural and smooth, whereas before he’d been so uncomfortable he’d felt like he couldn’t even walk properly.

“You know I go in early a lot?” Lance laughed, though not in the cruel way that Rolo might laugh, or Nyma.

“Er—just a guess!” Keith said hastily, his face having gone horribly red. Lance thankfully accepted this answer.

“My _tío_  works at the school,” Lance said with a casual shrug. “I like to go in early and hang out in his class.”

“That’s fun!” Keith said, and meant it. He wished his uncle worked at the school. Or that he had an uncle.

The entire walk to school Keith fretted about getting there and Lance going inside to be with his uncle while he was left outside in the cold, but it turned out he had nothing to worry about. By the time they arrived, Lance’s—apparent—uncle was letting them in and greeting Keith as warmly as he did Lance, who acted like they’d been friends for years instead of approximately a fifteen minute walk.

“This is my friend Keith,” Lance said when the man opened the door. “Keith, Coran.”

“Welcome!” Coran said jovially. He took off down the hall.

“ _That’s_  your uncle?” Keith asked incredulously. It was just that… well, the resemblance wasn’t really there. Where Lance had darker skin, Coran was pale, where Lance had brown hair, Coran had… orange.

Lance laughed. “He’s not _really_  my uncle,” he said, as if this was supposed to be obvious. “Just—a close family friend. You know. My _tío_.”

“Oh, right,” Keith said, as if he understood. Maybe it was a thing only people with real families could understand. Maybe you were _supposed_  to have real uncles and fake uncles.

They ended up sitting in Coran’s classroom together—an eighth grade classroom, which explained why Keith had never seen the teacher before—while Coran puttered around and did teacher-like duties. Keith was starting to feel awkward. He was wondering why Lance didn’t look like he felt awkward. Normally someone would feel awkward hanging out with someone they barely knew, right?

Except that apparently this didn’t apply to Lance. Maybe he was one of those rare types of people that could get along with anybody.

“Coran teaches science,” Lance explained, hopping off the desk he’d been casually sitting on (Keith standing next to it) and wandering behind the teacher’s desk. Keith had never been behind a teacher’s desk before. “Sometimes he lets me come over and we do experiments together.” And then Lance ducked down, disappearing behind the desk, and came back up holding two granola bars. “Hungry?”

“Oh,” Keith said, surprised. “Are you sure?” But Lance had already tossed the bar, which hit Keith in the chest. He managed to catch it before it fell to the ground. It was strange, being offered food so casually. The orphanage was always on a tight budget so they rarely got breakfast. The school provided their lunch (no side, no drink, no dessert) and they came home at the end of the day to their only warm meal.

Keith nibbled on the granola bar slowly while Lance shoved half of it in his mouth, already moving on to the next topic.

“One time Coran let Hunk and I blow up a can of whipped cream—you know Hunk, right?”

Suddenly, Coran piped in from across the room. “I’ve told you before Lance, that whipped cream wasn’t _supposed_  to blow up.”

“Well it was still awesome!” Lance exclaimed. He’d finished his granola bar now, the wrapper crumpled into a ball. He shot it towards the trashcan across the room and missed. Keith continued to nibble on his bar.

“You _do_  know Hunk, right?”

“Uhh…”

“About yea high?” Lance waved his hand about half a foot above him. “Could probably carry both of us at the same time? Wears orange a lot?”  
“Oh! Is he the one that wore nothing but orange for the entire fifth grade?”

“Yeah!” Lance started laughing. “Yeah that was him. That’s his favorite color. Mine’s blue.”

Wanting to chime in, Keith hurriedly said, “Oh yeah, me too.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. “We can’t have the _same_  favorite color. What if one day we both want like, the same shirt, and it comes in red and blue? Who gets the blue one?”

“I don’t need a shirt,” Keith answered.

“Keith!”

“You can have the blue one,” Keith said hastily. “I’ll take the red.”

“Okay,” Lance said pleasantly, apparently pleased with the fact that, in the end, he would obtain any blue shirts if it came to it. Keith was just distracted by the fact that Lance had already accepted their friendship and projected it to the future, in which they were fighting between a blue and red shirt. Was Lance not just being overly nice to him, walking to school with him and letting him come into his family friend/uncle’s classroom?

But somehow, it didn’t seem like that at all. Lance talked about anything and everything that he could in the time they spent in that homeroom, Coran chiming in and being just as nice to Keith as well.

By the time school was officially in session and it was time to go to homeroom, Keith was feeling happier than he probably ever had on a Monday morning. Lance was talkative enough that it never felt like there were any awkward silences and Keith never felt overly pressured to say anything. They walked through the halls towards the sixth grader’s hallways.

“Lance!” someone shouted, and both Keith and Lance turned to look at supremely short girl hanging on the edge of a doorframe, waving a gaming device in the air. “My mom let me get the new Deathbot 5000!”

“No way!” Lance cheered. “Can I play later?”

“Not until I beat it,” the girl said immediately, and Lance whined, turning to look at Keith, distraught.

“Can you believe this?” he demanded.

“Tragic,” Keith answered, having no idea what Deathbot 5000 was.

“Who’s that?” the girl suddenly asked, hanging even further out the door to try to get a look at Keith, who thought that someone inside the classroom was yelling for her to get back in the classroom.

“Keith,” Lance said. “And this is Pidge.”

“That’s her real name?”

“Well her family calls her Katie,” Lance said with a shrug. “Everyone else calls her Pidge.”

 _“Bell’s about to ring!”_  called a teacher from somewhere down the hall which was everyone’s cue to start scurrying towards their proper homerooms.

“See you later!” Lance said to him, walking backwards now and into the same classroom as Pidge. Keith waved goodbye and went to his own.

—

Keith was running late. He was normally very on time, seeing as his morning schedule was meticulously planned out and always down to the minute, but this morning his alarm hadn’t gone off. He suspected foul play. His alarm was set on a watch that he’d “bought” in fourth grade by saving up all the good student recognition tickets throughout the year. He’d kept it under his pillow for the past two years (so it wouldn’t wake up his roommate) and it’d reliably gone off at the same time every morning. Except for today.

So Keith had already scrambled around trying to get ready. Jason, his roommate who was a sophomore in high school, had already snapped at him for making so much noise and waking him up. Still, by rushing he managed to be ready to go to school at just six minutes later than he should’ve been, although he might’ve been accidentally wearing the same shirt as the day before. He doubted anyone would notice, however, and so he shrugged on his red jacket as he sprinted down the stairs.

Keith collided with a warm body on the second flight of stairs, having been staring at his feet as he thundered down them. Both boys groaned and Keith whipped his head up to snap at the idiot—everyone knew to stick to the right side of the staircase. He blinked when he came face to face with familiar blue eyes.

“ _Lance_?” he said incredulously, his mouth hanging open after he’d uttered the word.

“We’ve gotta stop running into each other,” Lance laughed, rubbing his collarbone where Keith’s face had bonked. “Ready to go?”

“I—what are you doing here?” Keith questioned. He hadn’t realized Lance even knew he lived at the orphanage. And now that he thought about it, he was a little embarrassed that Lance did. He’d thought that they were on equal footing the day before, that Lance had thought they were both normal kids with normal parents. Blood rose to Keith’s cheeks as he realized that the granola bar from yesterday was probably charity, not the thoughtlessness of someone well acquainted with eating all the time.

“I wanted to walk to school together again,” Lance said simply. “It’s more fun to have a friend. And Ms. Regan just told me to go upstairs and find you.” Keith peered around Lance, looking for Ms. Regan while simultaneously wondering how Lance had managed introductions in the short amount of time he’d been in the orphanage. Usually Ms. Regan was sullen and snappy and wouldn’t offer her name just to be polite—unless she thought Lance was a social worker. An eleven-year-old social worker.

“Right,” Keith muttered. He felt awkward. He was suddenly hyper aware of the state of the orphanage—the burnt out and flickering lights, the peeling wallpaper, the grungy carpet that smelled like mold. He was glad Lance hadn’t made it all the way to his room. “Let’s go.”

They made their way down the stairs together, and through the front entrance. Almost to freedom.

“Who’s _that_?”

Keith froze, turning slowly to look at Rolo.

“It’s Lance,” he supplied. “A friend from school.”

Rolo squinted. “You have friends?”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, before marching out of the orphanage, Lance at his heels.

“He was mean,” Lance commented once they were out the door.

“That was practically nice for Rolo,” Keith laughed. And together they walked to school.

—

"Here." A metal clang followed the lunch tray being slapped onto the counter in front of him, on top of which sat a cold sandwich with a piece of cheese on it. The lunch lady before him glared at him over the counter, her face saggy with distaste. Keith wished Mrs. Smith was here—she almost always snuck him a side of fruit. Sometimes she even managed to get meat on his sandwich as well.

"Thanks," Keith grunted, taking the tray and walking past the rest of the kids in line. Barely anyone glanced at him. The whole orphanage was zoned into this middle school and it wasn't out of place for a few scroungy-looking kids to walk past the lunch ladies without paying.

The second Keith emerged from the cafeteria with his tray he was assaulted. He gasped, jumping in shock as someone gripped onto his arm with sudden force.

"Keith! There you are! Come eat with us." It was Pidge. Keith wasn't given the chance to argue, nor was he sure if he even would've argued had he been, so he let himself be dragged off with Pidge.

"Hunk'll already be there, he brings his own lunch every day," Pidge explained as they walked. She, too, was carrying a lunch tray, though it was stacked with more food. "He packs it himself—the man is a sandwich genius. Allura and Shiro'll probably be there by now too. Lance will get there last, he always does."

“Er—where are we eating?" Keith finally asked. They'd long since walked away from the general area around the cafeteria, which he wasn't even sure was allowed, and were now carrying down the hall together.

"Coran's room," Pidge said comfortably. "We eat there everyday. Have you met Shiro and Allura before?"

Keith hadn’t—he'd only known Lance for a few days now—and Pidge went on to explain a bit about them. They were both eighth graders, Allura was Coran's niece but she lived with him, and Shiro was born without an arm and had a robot one that got replaced every year as he grew.

By the time they made it to Coran's classroom the rest of Lance's friends had already started eating. Keith recognized Hunk from having witnessed Lance shout down the hall at him before homeroom, and Shiro and Allura were pretty easy to figure out as well, considering the metal arm.

"Ah you found him!" Coran exclaimed. "Good going Pidge! Knew we could count on you!" Pidge rolled her eyes.

Keith couldn't help the small smile that found his lips. He liked Coran—the past few days he’d spent in the man’s company had led him to believe that maybe not all adults were cruel imitations of pleasant human beings. He was genuinely nice and it was apparent how deeply he cared for Lance. He didn’t even know Keith and yet he insisted on being nice to him, asking him inane questions like how his morning was and if he was having a good day. Who even did that?

“Hey Keith!” Hunk greeted easily. He patted the table he was sitting on and Keith took it for the invitation that it was, crossing the room with his lunch tray held tightly.

“Hi,” Keith said. It felt like everyone was looking at him which made Keith more uncomfortable than he would’ve liked to admit. He sat beside Hunk, his legs crossed, and balanced his tray in his lap. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

Pidge had already hopped onto the table across from Keith and Hunk while Shiro and Allura both pulled over chairs. Coran was sitting at his desk, nibbling on a giant carrot and looking content while he graded papers.

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro said with a smile. He extended his arm—the not robot one—and Keith shook it.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Allura added.

“You have?” Keith asked incredulously. “From who?”

Allura laughed as if this was a joke. “From Lance of course!” Keith chewed on his cheek, wondering why Lance had talked about him before. Had he been saying mean things behind his back?

Just then the door burst open, revealing Lance. He was carrying his tray in his left hand and a half-eaten sandwich in his right. As he stepped into the room he took another bite of his sandwich.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, mouth still full of food, when he laid eyes on Keith. “Good job Pidge, you found him!”

“It’s like you didn’t _expect_  me to find him,” Pidge muttered. Lance shrugged. He walked towards Keith and Hunk and squeezed himself onto the tiny bit of table to Keith’s right. Wanting to make more room for Lance, Keith slid a bit closer to Hunk, Lance immediately following.

“You’ve officially been initiated into our lunch,” Lance said seriously. “Don’t ever expect to eat elsewhere again.”

“Um. Okay,” Keith said. He didn’t really mind, seeing as he’d always eaten alone in an empty classroom down the hall from the cafeteria previously, but the way Lance said it _was_  a little bit creepy.

Lance burst into laughter then, punching Keith in the shoulder before bending over his knees. “I’m telling you guys! Our friend group just wasn’t complete without Keith.”

And for once, Keith didn’t even think he was being sarcastic.

—

—

"You wanna come over?" Lance asked. He always had to ask, because even after almost three years of being his friend, Keith felt out of place asking Lance if he could go over to his house. It felt different to him, seeing as he didn’t have a real home. What if Lance thought he wanted to come over only because his house was better than the orphanage? What if he thought Keith was using him? And so Keith never asked if he could go over, he just waited to be invited.

"I can't," Keith said, slowing down. They usually slowed down at this part of their walk, the orphanage being at the end of this last stretch of sidewalk. Returning to it was Keith's least favorite part of the day.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" Lance pestered. His blue backpack was slung over one shoulder, the straps worn and torn, the bottom looking about ready to break open. Keith had the very same backpack in red, a gift he'd gotten the previous year from Lance's mom. He'd tried to insist he couldn’t accept it but she hadn't taken no for an answer, had said it was an early birthday present. _Really_  early.

“No.”

“Because the last time you said that was when you managed to convince yourself you’d overstayed your welcome,” Lance continued. He stopped walking and Keith stopped too, the both of them standing in front of the orphanage. Yes, returning to the orphanage was the worst part of his day, but not because of where he was going—it was because of who he was leaving.

“I want to come,” Keith said honestly. “But I can’t today. Ms. Regan told me to come straight home after school. Apparently they want to talk to some of us about something, I don’t know.”

“Fiiiine,” Lance huffed, stepping forward to pull Keith into a quick hug. Keith felt his cheeks go red, as they were wont to do too often around Lance lately. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith agreed. With that Lance was turning to go, waving over his shoulder before he started racing down the sidewalk alone. With a sigh, Keith turned toward the too familiar double doors, yanking them open and stepping inside.

The orphanage was quiet; it always was, no one wanting to make a ruckus and get yelled at. It’d been terrifying, the first time Keith had gone to Lance’s house—it’d been so loud and boisterous he’d been sure they were all about to get in trouble. Lance’s older brother had pounded loudly across the floor, sprinting from the kitchen to the stairs (and yelling, because he was holding a fresh Hot Pocket in his bare hand). His older sister had been calling to her daughter, Lance’s niece, from the upper floor. Several kids had been shouting and laughing and screaming in the living room and Keith had just frozen in terror. (Keith soon learned this was normal, of course, and that Lance’s parents were as loud as the rest of them, but still.)

Keith debated making his way upstairs. He was alone in his room for the moment, his old roommate off at college with the scholarship he’d gotten, but still, Ms. Regan had explicitly told him she wanted to talk to him. He didn’t doubt that she could’ve forgotten she even had something to say in the first place, and when she remembered in a couple days she’d come at Keith full of rage. So instead of climbing the stairs like he wanted to, he snaked further into the bottom floor of the orphanage, peering into offices and sitting rooms for Ms. Regan. He finally found her in the kitchen.

“Ms. Regan,” he said upon seeing her, trying to stand up straight and look less dirty than he probably was. She was smoking a cigarette despite being indoors (and despite it being against the rules) and didn’t seem to care that Keith was seeing her doing it. No one would ever believe him if he told on her anyway. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh yeah,” Ms. Regan said with a nod, flicking her cigarette in his direction as she did. Ashes crumbled from the tip and littered the kitchen floor. Keith felt glad he’d never believed in the five second rule. “I was told to tell you to pack up your shit.” She flicked the cigarette again.

“What?”

“All your clothes and crap. They’re moving you to another state or something. The orphanage is overfilled and there’s not enough money to pay for you all.”

Keith was speechless. His mouth felt dry, his lungs tight and unable to do what they were made to do. He realized that his mouth was hanging open but he could do nothing to close it.

“Why _me_?” he finally managed, his voice barely audible. His eyes felt hot, as if tears might start spilling out of them at any moment.

“It’s a whole bunch of you,” Ms. Regan said, oblivious to the fact that she was tearing his—very small—world apart. It was all crumbling beneath him. He was shaking so hard, so visibly, it was truly a testament to how little she paid attention when she didn’t notice. “Well? Go pack up. You’re leaving sometime in the next week—don’t ask me when ‘cause I don’t know.”

Clearly dismissed, Keith turned on his heel and left the kitchen. But he didn’t go up the stairs, didn’t go to his room to pack up his stuff. He ripped open the front door and pounded onto the pavement below, already gasping for breath as he sprinted down the block, towards Lance’s house. He felt numb all over, his head heavy and thick. He didn’t know what to do—all he could think of was Lance, who might be able to comfort him in some way. Would he have to make some sort of social media account to be able to talk to everyone? He might be able to log onto it sometimes during school, but there would never be enough time! What would he possibly do without his friends?

He ran the whole way to Lance’s house, the ten minute walk reduced to five as he catapulted around corners, panting for breath. He wondered what he looked like to passersby, dirty with ragged clothes, almost instantly recognizable as a kid from the orphanage.

He’d never gone to Lance's house uninvited before. He had a hard enough time going when he _was_  invited, but for once he didn't care. He climbed the steps to the front door and pounded on the wood, blinking water out of his eyes. _When had it started raining?_

And it really was rain, not tears, like he’d for a moment felt inclined to think. His hair was plastered to his face, his shirt sticking to his skin, and he sniffed loudly as he continued to knock. Okay, maybe some of the liquid on his face was tears.

The door flew open, revealing Lance with a juice box in hand and an eyebrow raised. "I thought you said you couldn't come over!" he accused.

Keith ignored him, stepping into the house and throwing himself onto Lance, who hugged him back with a "Woah!" of surprise. He spilled some of his juice onto Keith's back, not that it really mattered since he was soaking wet anyway. 

"Dude, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Lance said. He managed to pry Keith off of him, pushing him away so he could look at his (red, snot-ridden) face. Before Keith could say a word Lance was steering them both to his room, Keith making disgusting sniffing sounds the whole way.

The second they were in the room Lance closed the door behind them, turning to face Keith. "Tell me everything," he said, and so Keith did. He was ringing his hands together the whole time, twisting his wet shirt, running his hands through his soaked hair. Lance looked just as astounded as he did, his mouth gaping by the end of it.

" _What_?" he finally exclaimed. "That's bullshit!"

"Lance!" Keith reprimanded.

"What? It is! I bet the caretakers are hogging all the money for themselves!"

"Maybe," Keith muttered. He felt kind of ridiculous now, having run to Lance's house in a panic, now soaking wet and tearful.

"Come on," Lance said, his voice infinitely soft. He crossed his room and began digging through his dresser.

"What are you doing?"

"You're soaked," Lance stated, as if this was explanation enough. He pulled out a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants, tossing them at Keith. "Change into those."

"Lance..."

"Just change." And so Keith did without further argument, which Lance looked glad about. And then they climbed into his bed and pulled the sheets over their head. They watched funny shows on Lance's dad's computer and tried to ignore the crushing weight that was reality: Keith was going to  be whisked away to another state in a matter of days.

Keith ended up sleeping over—he doubted anyone from the orphanage would notice his absence anyway. And then he went to school wearing Lance's pajamas, because he didn't care and wouldn't be seeing these people probably ever again, and also because Lance's pajamas were kind of better than his real clothes anyway.

The whole school day passed in a blur. Keith couldn’t even remember if he and Lance ended up telling everyone that he was being sent away. It was like a thick fog was pressing in all around him. He was in such a state of panic that he couldn’t even express it anymore, it was all just trapped inside him.

That day when Lance walked him home, he stopped in front of the orphanage. “You know,” he said quietly, not even looking at Lance. Instead he was looking at the tall building before him with its grimy windows and chipped bricks. “I never had friends before you.” And it was true. Before Lance, he’d had no one. He’d talked to no one regularly, had rarely laughed or smiled or genuinely _enjoyed_  life. And then not only Lance had come into his life, but everyone else too.

Hunk, with his warm hugs and smiles and laughs, who never failed to be concerned for anyone else’s sake. Pidge, infinitely smart and sarcastic, though surprisingly sweet late at night, probably because of sleep deprivation. Shiro with his calming presence, Allura who managed to loosen him up. Even Coran, the only adult Keith had ever actually liked. The only adult who’d ever _cared_  for him.

All these people, the only people Keith had ever loved, and he was going to be leaving them. He’d probably never see them again, and he’d fade from their memories as they grew up and moved on with their lives, meanwhile they’d continue to play the biggest part in his own. God knew he’d likely never make any other friends, wherever he was going. He wouldn’t _want_  to make them either.

“Do you want to come over?” Lance finally responded. Keith didn’t blame him, he didn’t know what he would’ve said in response to that either.

“I can’t,” Keith lied. Because he’d cried on Lance long enough yesterday, and now he just needed to go inside and let himself feel properly torn apart.

Surprisingly, Lance didn’t argue with him. He just stepped forward and pulled him into a rough hug, tighter and longer than usual, and then he was going.

—

It was pretty much a staple that no one visited Keith at the orphanage. This wasn’t for lack of trying—all of his friends had attempted to come to the orphanage at some point or other to hang out with him, only to end up shooed away by Keith himself. Eventually he’d had to come clean and admit that it was embarrassing for him when they came around. Even then, they’d all tried to insist that he had no reason to feel embarrassed, but there was no changing his mind.

This only proved to exemplify how out of the ordinary it was for Lance to be in the orphanage now.

It was the weekend, now two days since he’d heard the life-changing (ruining) news of what was to be his big move. He was lounging on his bed in his room (on the left side, because a spring was poking through the middle of the mattress now) when the door burst open, revealing Lance.

“Keith!” he greeted.

Keith scrambled to sit up, abandoning the book he’d been reading, and climbed out of his bed with a blush. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, mainly because he didn’t see the use of dirtying a much-needed shirt for no reason.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked, while crossing the room to look through his pitiful wardrobe for something to wear.

“Come downstairs,” Lance answered.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Keith muttered, but Lance ignored him. He strode forward and manhandled Keith towards the door as he pulled on his shirt. They’d all been planning to hang out later in the day (unless Keith was suddenly whisked away, which was now becoming a more and more likely prospect since Ms. Regan had never told him when he’d be leaving) but it wasn’t even noon yet. There was no proper explanation for why Lance was here. Especially when he knew his presence embarrassed Keith.

“Seriously, what are we doing?” Keith pestered as they both pounded down the stairs. He glanced nervously to the doors they passed as they went, sure another kid was going to wrench it open and demand they stop being so loud.

“You’ll see!” Lance said. They finally reached the bottom floor, and instead of walking out the front doors like he’d expected, Lance turned and marched towards a set of double doors further down the hallway.

“Don’t go in there Lance!” Keith suddenly gasped, rushing after him. He grabbed Lance’s arm, looking at him with wide, scared eyes. “That’s the main office! We’ll get in trouble if we go in there.”

“No we won’t,” Lance said confidently. He kept walking.

“ _Lance_! I’m serious—” he grabbed Lance’s arm and yanked him back mere feet away from the double doors. The head caretaker was probably somewhere behind them now, possibly hearing them approach, probably about to burst out of it and slap Keith upside the head.

“Keith—”

_“You’re gonna get me in trouble!”_

Lance, proving he actually wasn’t a good friend like Keith had been led to believe, reached forward and pushed one of the doors open. Keith froze, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head, turned to look inside the dark room, knowing he would see Ms. Dorothy behind the giant, terrifying looking desk, looking down at him with rage and disapproval.

Keith had only been in the office a few times in his life, each of them horrifying. When he was six he’d punched another kid in the face (he’d said Keith was never going to get adopted, which has so far proved to be true, but it made him angry nonetheless) and Ms. Dorothy had spanked him with the paddle—he hadn’t been able to sit for three whole days. When he was nine he’d been forced to take the blame for something stupid Nyma had done. The last time he’d been was just the year previous. One caretaker had taunted him, had asked since when did he have so many friends outside the orphanage (and had insinuated he was just using them for charity) and he’d called her a fat frog-faced cunt. He hadn’t been able to go to school for a week, he’d been beaten so bad. He’d told Lance and everyone that he was sick.

But as Keith turned his head, expecting to see a raging Mrs. Dorothy, possibly with her cane already raised, he saw—

 _Coran_?

“Thank you very much!” Coran was saying, leaning over the side of her desk and signing something with a flourish. Keith’s death-grip on Lance’s arm loosened slightly, more out of confusion than anything else.

“Er,” he managed, while Lance smiled broadly. Mrs. Dorothy finally looked at him from across her desk, and Keith felt his insides freeze over. He’d never seen her outside of this room. Sometimes he wondered if she slept in there, or ever even came out.

“You’re good to go,” she said in her gravelly voice, her beady eyes glaring at him over her pink, cat-eye glasses.

“I’m what?” Keith answered. Her glower deepened, and he hastened to add, “Ma’am!”

“Go,” she said. Turning to Coran, she added, “Your adoption papers are all set. All three of you are expected to be out of the building in the next ten minutes.”

Coran was still smiling. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t register the small twitch of his mustache, nor the now very obviously fake smile. “Will do,” Coran answered. “We’ll just go and collect his stuff.”

And then it sunk it.

Coran had _adopted Keith?_

“Wait, wait, wait,” Keith finally said, his mind reeling. This wasn’t actually happening, was it? “Did you just—”

“Adopt you?” Lance chimed in. “Yup!”

“I can’t let you do that,” Keith said, his words jumbling together with panic, and a sense of longing and happiness so strong it was almost impossible to ignore.

“They already did,” Mrs. Dorothy croaked. “That document is legally binding.” And then: “Nine more minutes.”

“You can’t just… _adopt me_  because I’m being sent away. It’s… it’s ridiculous! It’s…” _Charity_ , Keith thought. _They’re just trying to do me the biggest favor of their lives. They don’t understand how much responsibility that is, to just own another kid!_

“Oh it’s not because you’re being sent away,” Coran chimed in, his eyes twinkling and his finger pointed in the air scientifically. “I’ve had my name down to adopt you for months now! I wanted to get everything all set, but, well—we kind of ran out of time, didn’t we?”

“Months,” Keith muttered, in disbelief. He didn’t want to let himself believe it, afraid this fantasy was about to come crashing down around him. Could he really be about to get out of here? “Are you… are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Coran said gently, and then Lance was grabbing Keith’s arm and they were pounding back up the steps—steps Keith wouldn’t be climbing again after today.

For once, Lance wasn’t talking. He was silent, letting Keith try to wrap his mind around all that was happening. Most of all, he couldn’t believe Lance had managed to keep this a secret for so long, especially after Keith had run to him in a panic.

Together they packed up his things, taking less then five minutes, and hurried back down the stairs. Lance grabbed his hand for a moment, giving it a quick squeeze and smiling Keith’s way (his heart stuttered) before they were back in the entrance.

“Ready?” Coran asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

—

Keith stepped through the front door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. All of his belongings had fit into it.

He'd been in Coran's house a hundred times, their group of friends electing to hang out here as often as anyone else's house. But this time it felt different. This time he wasn't coming here to visit, to simply hang out or sleep over, he was coming here to _stay_. He felt pathetically out of place in a place that'd always felt like home.

"Let's look at your room!" Lance whooped, running past him and jumping in the air. Keith was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was _adopted_ , that he wasn't going to be ripped away from all his friends.

"My room?" Keith muttered.

"Think you were going to sleep on the couch?" Coran joked, elbowing Keith as walked by. Keith had always felt comfortable around Coran, but now he felt uncharacteristically shy. Coran had _adopted_  him. He'd paid money just to keep Keith in his life!

It didn't make any sense to him, was something that he couldn't hope to comprehend, and yet it was happening.

"Hey," Coran said suddenly, turning to face him, looking concerned. "Are you okay? Need some time alone?"

"What? No I—I'm fine. Really."

"Okay. Because I know this all happened really fast. I'd planned to talk to you about it first, but..."

"Really, I don't mind at all," Keith said, a smile finding its way onto his face.

"Good, good," Coran said jovially. "Awesome!" And then he was patting Keith's shoulder and shoving him in Lance's direction, towards the stairs.

Keith knew that Coran had been taking care of Allura for years now, that she regarded him as a father figure, but he’d never thought of her as someone who went through something similar to him, after her parents died. But they were in a pretty similar boat. Coran had done this all before, for Allura. He knew what he was doing. He'd _wanted it_ , had wanted another kid in the house. Keith's heart felt so full he thought it might burst.

"I helped paint your room," Lance was saying conversationally, when Keith tuned back in. "Coran wouldn't let me make it neon green so we settled for beige."

"That's a huge settle.”

“Yeah, well. He said I should think about what you would like.”  
“Really?”

“I told him you’d like neon green but he didn’t believe me,” Lance said this with an apologetic frown over his shoulder, and Keith silently thanked Coran for not being an idiot. They both squeezed through the door to his bedroom together, a room which had previously been the guest room.

“Look at this!” Lance said excitedly, bounding over to the closet. He wrenched it open and Keith gaped at the clothes inside—shirts, pants, sweatshirts; even a cool red jacket.

“What is this?” Keith breathed.

“Your new wardrobe!” said Lance. “Allura ordered most of it online. I picked out the jacket!” Before Keith could protest, Lance was diving into his closet and pulling the jacket down from a hook. “Here! Try it on!” Not giving Keith a chance to take the jacket, Lance forced him into it.

“It looks good,” Lance said with a wide smile.

“It’s too short,” Keith pointed out, tugging at the bottom of the jacket. It didn’t reach nearly all the way to his waist.

“No it’s not, it’s supposed to look like that,” Lance argued. “It’s _fashion_.”

“Since when do you know anything about fashion?”

“Since always!” Lance cried. “Anyway, Coran was talking about getting you a phone soon, although that’s supposed to be a secret, but it’ll be great because you can finally be in our group chats! And Allura was telling me…”

Keith couldn’t help the fact that his mind drifted away from everything Lance was saying. It was too good to be true. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, so many years locked away in that institute. When he was little he’d gone to bed every night hoping someone would be there for him the next day, would want to take him in and take care of him and spoil him. As he’d gotten older he’d stopped being so specific: he just wanted someone to take him in, to get him _out_  of that orphanage. And now he had more than he’d ever thought he would.

Maybe Keith was a baby. It was probably what Lance was thinking when his face crumpled and tears slipped out of his eyes.

“Woah! Dude, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Lance demanded. Keith just nodded and stepped into Lance’s arms, trying to get control of himself.

“I’m fine,” he sniffed. “I’m just—really happy, is all.”

Lance patted his back, rubbing big circles all over it. “Good.”

— — —

FOUR YEARS LATER:

— — —

(13:04) Pidge: where’s lance

(13:04) Hunk: guess.

(13:06) Pidge: wtf??? just tell me

(13:07) Hunk: no seriously guess

(13:07) Pidge: i don’t know!! what is this??

(13:08) Shiro: Think you guys are using the wrong group chat again.

(13:10) Pidge: nope! this use of group chat is intentional. we can’t afford to let our friendship slip just because you and allura are off at college

(13:11) Shiro: Our friendship wouldn’t slip!  
(13:11) Pidge: that’s what they all say

(13:11) Pidge: besides, we want to include you

(13:12) Shiro: Well we won’t know where Lance is!

(13:12) Pidge: wow you don’t even care enough to know where lance is how rude

(13:14) Hunk: guys!!! GUESS.

(13:15) Keith: He’s with that girl. Lyla.

(13:15) Hunk: wow keith good guess

(13:15) Hunk: how’d you know???

(13:16) Keith: I can see him.

(13:16) Keith: [IMAGE SENT]

(13:18) Pidge: AW DAMMIT

(13:18) Pidge: i COULD’VE guessed that!

(13:18) Hunk: told you

Keith sighed, tearing his gaze away from Lance and turning to walk the opposite way down the hall. He was pretty sure that if he had to walk past Lance flirting with that girl he might just throw up on him.

It sucked, seeing Lance flirting all the time. And it _sucked_  that it sucked—because he didn’t _want_  it to suck. He wanted it to be… nothing. He wanted it to be _normal_. He should be rooting for Lance, hoping that he’d score with one of the girls he got crushes on.

Instead, he was sadistically pleased when they never turned out. Which was horrible of him, and pathetic, and something that he would probably never mention to anyone ever. He’d been surrounded by other kids long enough back in his days in the orphanage to know how _that_  would be looked upon.

And so he navigated his way to his next class—history, ugh—and tried to ignore the vortex of horrible emotions inside him. By the time he’d slid into his seat at the back of the class (and accidentally touched a piece of gum under the desk) his phone was vibrating in his pocket.

(13:25) Lance <333: stalker!!!!

(13:25) Lance <333: no but seriously i think maybe lyla really likes me

(13:25) Lance <333: she laughs a lot when i talk to her

(13:26) Keith: That’s because you’re funny.

(13:26) Lance <333: this is different!!!

(13:26) Lance <333: this is like, hey i think you’re cute and i have a crush on you laughter

(13:26) Keith: Is that even a thing?

(13:27) Hunk: probably not

(13:28) Lance <333: IT IS

(13:28) Lance <333: SHE WAS DOING ITTTT

Keith slid his phone back into his pocket as Mr. Davis started talking up at the front of the room. He was the kind of teacher to take your phone and lock it up for the rest of the day if you weren’t paying attention, and Keith hated to think about everything he would miss in the group chat if that were to happen.

It’d been Lance who’d added the hearts by his name. He’d claimed Keith was too boring when putting in his contacts, that he should use nicknames and emojis instead.

“None of us _have_  any nicknames,” Keith had pointed out, and Lance had groaned before snatching his phone and adding the hearts. Keith had kept them just to appease Lance.

He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket throughout the class and he had to resist looking at it each and every time. It was probably just Lance talking about Lyla, anyway. He was always talking about some girl, always chasing after one or flirting with another or sometimes, very occasionally, _texting_  one.

Lance was girl crazy, and while he didn’t always have the best luck with them, that didn’t mean he didn’t have luck with them _sometimes_. He seemed to have a lot of luck with them at parties, for example. Somehow he’d end up in corners or against walls with them. Very occasionally he’d end up behind closed doors.

Keith hated parties.

—

(02:11) Pidge: do you think ms. greensburg will actually collect this hw

(02:11) Allura: you haven't done it?

(02:12) Pidge: ALLURA!!!! you’re here!!!!

(02:12) Allura: i am!! i was writing this essay all day and then fell asleep for a four hour power nap

(02:12) Allura: but i’m very awake now

(02:15) Pidge: college is crazy

(02:16) Allura: you should probably do the homework

(02:16) Pidge: hmm

(02:16) Pidge: probably

(02:16) Pidge: but also

(02:16) Pidge: netflix

(02:18) Allura: pidge no!!!

(02:19) Allura: at least go to sleep if you’re not going to do your homework!

(02:21) Pidge: you’re Too Late

(02:21) Pidge: [IMAGE SENT]

(07:32) Lance <333: how the fuck are you gonna function today

(07:32) Lance <333: you were up at TWO AM

(07:32) Lance <333: and ms. greensburg DID collect the homework!!! you’re fucked!!

(07:33) Pidge: nah i’m fine

(07:33) Pidge: i ended up dong it

(07:33) Pidge: doing***

(07:34) Lance <333: WHAT THE FUCK

(07:34) Lance <333: HOW

(07:37) Pidge: well i started to feel anxious about not having done it around 3 am so

(07:37) Pidge: i did it

(07:40) Lance <333: what the fuck

(08:02) Keith: I don’t understand how you function on so little sleep Pidge.

(08:03) Lance <333: and i don’t understand how you manage to wake up so late

(08:05) Keith: I’m not waking up late you’re just waking up early.

(08:05) Keith: It’s not like I have a lot to do in the mornings.

(08:09) Lance <333: madman

(08:11) Lance <333: SOMEHOW flawlessly-skinned madman

(08:11) Lance <333: tbh it’s probably cause you wear the same outfit every day

(08:15) Keith: I do not!

(08:15) Lance <333: tell me if this sounds familiar: black shirt, black pants, cropped jacket.

(08:16) Keith: [IMAGE SENT]

(08:16) Keith: I’m wearing a blue shirt.

(08:16) Lance <333: UGH WAHTEVER

(08:19) Lance <333: i’m leaving btw

(08:19) Lance <333: so be ready i’ll be there in like five

(08:20) Keith: When am I ever not ready?

(08:22) Lance <333: can’t heeeaaar youuu i’m driving!!!

(08:30) Hunk: drive safe!!!

—

Keith sighed, staring at Lance’s ceiling. The shower was still running in the next room over: Lance had always been one to take long showers. Still, it was getting a big ridiculous. He’d begged Keith to come over to his house to hang out, but Keith had made him promise not to take a long time in the shower.

The rest of his friends were good at entertaining themselves on their phones. They all had different accounts on social media everywhere, posting pictures of themselves and funny statuses and things. Keith had similar accounts, but only because they’d all made them for him, convinced he needed one. He only ever used them to like the things his friends posted, often having been tagged in them anyway.

Normally when they were all waiting for something or sitting around bored, everyone would slowly congregate to their phones. They’d scroll through their social media accounts and snort when they saw something funny, immediately passing their phones around the group to be looked at. Keith usually sat out of it, not really following anyone other than his friends anyway. If he was supremely bored he might scroll through his old texts with his friends, but otherwise he liked to occupy his time talking to his friends or reading books or something.

His phone buzzed.

(19:42) Coran: You coming home tonight?

(19:42) Keith: I’m not sure yet. I’m with Lance right now, I think we might all go out or something.

(19:43) Coran: Okay, let me know! Be safe!

Keith tossed his phone down the bed and huffed, staring at the ceiling once more. Finally he heard the shower sputter out. It wasn’t much longer until Lance was exiting the bathroom, a cloud of good-smelling steam following him.

Lance had a towel wrapped around his head, the rest of his body covered in a silk robe. It hugged his form closely. Keith swallowed and looked away.

“So I’m thinking we should go out tonight,” Lance said conversationally.

“Mhmm.”

“There’s this party…”

Keith took a shot in the dark. “Lyla’s gonna be there?”

“Yep.” _Ouch_.

“Is everyone going?”

“They will be once I convince them,” Lance said easily, turning to look at him with a smile. “Which shirt?” Lance held up two shirts, nearly identical.

“That one,” Keith pointed. Lance nodded, his towel now slung over his closet door and his wet hair spilling into his eyes.

“You’re right, you’re right.” It didn’t take Lance much longer to get changed. Soon he was stepping out of the closet fully dressed, his shirt tight around his chest, his jeans tighter around his ass.

 _Fuck_ , Keith thought. _I have to stop thinking like this._

“What do you think?” Lance asked, spinning away from the mirror to look at Keith, his eyebrow raised.

“Good,” Keith answered.

“Enough to make Lyla fall in love with me?”

“Enough to make her _look_  at you.”

Lance laughed and jumped on the bed, flopping beside Keith with a content huff. “We’re gonna have to get _you_  a girlfriend, dude,” he said. Keith stiffened.

“I don’t know if I’m the dating type…” he ventured.

“Everyone’s the dating type!” Lance exclaimed. “Plus, you’ve never even kissed anybody. You don’t know what it’s like.” Keith shrugged.

“You’ll see,” Lance promised. “You know what, now that I’m pretty sure Lyla’s actually interested in me, I won’t have to try so hard. I could be keeping an eye out for you.”

“No thanks.”

“What’s your type, anyway?”

“Shut up, Lance!”

“Ugh, your fear of intimacy disgusts me,” Lance groaned. “When will you ever learn?”

—

It was three in the morning by the time Keith got home. And no, not because they’d stayed out late drinking and partying—Keith hadn’t had a drop of alcohol after his initial booze-y mystery in a red solo cup—but because of Lance.

He and Lyla had hit it off immediately, much to all of their immense disbelief. Maybe kind of shittily, they’d all assumed Lance was making it up when he said that Lyla was interested in him. Instead, they’d shown up to the party only for Lyla to appear almost moments after they’d entered through the front door. She’d been all short blonde hair and smiles and giggles. Keith hated her.

“Lance and Lyla,” Hunk had said at one point, staring at them from across the room. “You gotta admit, it sounds good together.”

Pidge had hummed. Keith had noticed her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, which he chose to ignore. They’d only ended up staying for a couple hours, electing to have Pidge’s older brother pick them up and take them back home once they’d had their fill of teenage house party-ing.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Pidge had asked, looking doubtful. But Keith had decided to stay—for Lance. He didn’t know if his friend was going to end up wanting to go home tonight, and he certainly wasn’t in a state to drive himself. He didn’t want Lance to find himself stranded without a way to get home safely, so Keith had raised his cup in acknowledgement to Pidge and smiled.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d promised, and she’d bitten her lip and given him a worried nod before backing towards the front door.

“Text us if you change you’re mind! I’ll probably be up!”

“Will do!” Keith had lied. His phone had died a while earlier. He’d already gone through several text conversations to ease his boredom while standing along the wall earlier, though by the time Pidge and Hunk had left he’d looked even more out of place. The couch Lance and Lyla had been occupying across the room had, at that point, been empty, and Keith had felt unease roil in his stomach.

It’d been a couple more hours before they got to leave. Surprisingly, the party hadn’t fizzled out shortly after midnight, instead furthering into the early hours of the morning, possibly due to the three day weekend they had because of teacher work days. Either way, Keith had found it impossible for him to slink into a quiet corner and find some book or dog or thing to occupy himself while he waited for Lance. Instead he’d wandered around and tried to look busy and not like he was a friendless loser.

He finally saw Lance again in the kitchen.

Lance, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. Lance, chugging a glass of water while standing by the fridge, barefoot. Lance, grinning when he caught sight of Keith.

“Keith!” he’d cheered. “I didn’t expect you to wait up on me all night! You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith had hastened to assure. “And you? Are you okay?”

“ _Okay_?” Lance had laughed. “Dude. I am _more_  than okay.” His face had been flushed, his eyes glowing. “I’m ready to go if you are, honestly. I can tell you all about it in the car.”

“Sounds great,” Keith had agreed. Not because he wanted to hear more about it, but because he thought if he wasn’t on his way home in the next three minutes that he might vomit in the kitchen sink.

“Awesome! Let me get my shoes and shit. I’ll be right back.”

And the whole drive back to Lance’s house Lance had told him about it. About how far he'd gone with Lyla, about how pretty she was, how funny. About how she giggled even in the middle of it all, interspersed with gasps and moans.

“You wanna stay over?” Lance had asked, after they’d pulled into his driveway, Keith tossing him his keys.

“Nah,” Keith had answered, trying to come up with an excuse. “Told Coran I’d be home, you know?” But it was only after that that he’d realized he _hadn’t_  told Coran he’d be home—he’d promised to, but he’d forgotten. His phone had died and he’d been so wrapped up in Lance that he hadn’t thought about Coran once.

“Alright that’s fine,” Lance had said, still smiling. “Dude, seriously, next time—we’ll find you a girl.” And with that, he’d been hugging Keith with one arm, clapping him on the back, and turning around to go into his house.

Keith had run all the way home, panic flooding through him, making his brain spark and fizz. He’d known Coran for so long. He knew he was a nice man, a wonderful man. Keith loved him, honest to God, but as he’d run he’d only felt fearful. And maybe that wasn’t his fault. Maybe it was the stupid orphanage’s fault, instilling in him a fear so deep, a desire so instinctual to not disobey. Either way, he hadn’t been able to stop the frantic beating of his heart, the desperate pace with which he’d run to get home, his eyes wide with terror. All he could think of, for some stupid reason, was Mrs. Dorothy and her office. He felt like he was going to open the door to the building that he’d called home for four years now and see the inside of that dark and gloomy office, Mrs. Dorothy sitting sternly behind her desk.

And now, Keith was home. It was three am and he was sweaty and panicked and upset all at once. He abandoned his shoes by the door and rushed as quietly as he could through the house, half hoping Coran had just ended up going to sleep.

He found Coran on the couch. Looking disappointed.

“Keith,” he said.

“Coran!” Keith gasped, his mouth hanging open. “Coran, I’m so, so sorry! My phone died and I—I wasn’t thinking, I forgot, and I—”

“It’s okay,” Coran said, his mouth still pinched into a frown. “I’m not mad,” he continued. _Here it comes_. “Just disappointed.”

Oh, that was so much worse.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was worried about you, Keith.”

“I know, and, and… you shouldn’t have been. I should have texted you, should have let you know…”

“You should have, but it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Keith let out a shaky breath of relief, hardly daring to believe it. No Mrs. Dorothy. No scary office, no painful paddle, no stupid orphanage.

“Come here,” Coran said. Keith made his way around the couch, plopping himself down next to Coran.

“I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

Keith sighed, letting his head drop into his fist. It was stupid, but now that he knew he wasn't in trouble, that Coran wasn’t angry at him, his mind just drifted back to Lance. Stupid Lance with his stupid girlfriend Lyla. Stupid Lyla who’d gotten in stupid Lance’s pants. Stupid Lance who’d talked about it _the whole ride home._

“You wanna talk about it?” Coran asked. Keith sat up straighter.

“What? Talk about what? I don’t have anything to talk about,” he said quickly. Coran raised an eyebrow. Keith tried to look innocent.

“Whatever it is, I won’t judge you for it,” Coran promised.

Keith kept his lips sealed. There was no way Coran knew what was on Keith’s mind. If he did, he wouldn’t be so eager for Keith to share with him. He’d probably be recoiling, even.

“Keith—”

Annoyingly, Keith’s hidden desire to share was apparently stronger than whatever Coran’s persuasive speech would’ve been. “It’s just—I like someone,” he said carefully, clenching his jaw shut afterward.

“Mmm,” Coran hummed.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Well, you have a few tells,” was all Coran said. Keith swallowed thickly.

“Anyway. This… person… likes someone else.”

“Ah.”

“And it sucks. But there’s nothing I can do about it, you know?”

“Have you tried telling them how you feel?” Coran asked, and Keith scoffed.

“No,” he muttered darkly. “It’d be _weird_.”

“How come?”

Keith felt his eyes bug out of his head. “Er—it just would be.”

“Right. Well, perhaps you only think so because you’ve never seen it from their point of view.”

“Doubt it,” Keith said under his breath.

“It’s alright, you know,” Coran said finally. “Whoever you have a crush on.”

Keith felt his breath catch in his lungs, tight and uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Um.”

“If they were in your friend group, for example,” Coran said.

“I don’t have a crush on Pidge.”

“Well, it’d be okay if you did. Or if it was on, say, Hunk, for example. Or Lance.”

“I don’t have a crush on Lance,” Keith spluttered immediately.

“Right. Of course. But it’d be perfectly okay if you did.”

“But I don’t.”

“Right.”

“Of course.”

Coran nodded. Keith swallowed thickly.

“I’m going to bed now.” And then he ran up the stairs.

—

Having Coran accept him for who he was— _no matter_  who he was—was amazing. Embarrassing, yes, definitely, but simultaneously wonderful. He woke up the next morning with a lighter spirit, a weight he hadn't even known was there lifted off his shoulders.

Come Monday he’d forgotten all about his dilemma with Lance, his quiet and tentative joy with Coran overshadowing it. He remembered quite quickly, however, when he saw Lyla making out with Lance against Keith’s locker. Keith couldn’t stop himself from watching; some part of him apparently liked to be in pain, liked to watch the boy he’d been crushing on for years be unattainable in more ways than one. He clearly had a girlfriend now, and was—almost undeniably—straight.

“‘Scuse me,” Keith managed, after what felt like an entire year of watching Lance and Lyla exchange spit. It was made even worse by the fact that Lance appeared to be _good at it_ , especially if the sounds Lyla had been making were anything to go by. One of Lance’s hands held her face, tilting it upward. ( _He would have to tilt my face up too, a traitorous part of Keith’s brain thought. He’s taller than me.)_

They broke apart. Lyla’s face was red, but Lance’s just broke into a smile at the sight of Keith.

“Keith!” he greeted, maneuvering Lyla so that she was no longer pressed against the locker, his arm wound around her waist. “We were waiting for you! And, um… got carried away.” He said this with a small shrug, his mouth pulled up into an innocent smile. He was so fucking cute even when the sight of him was causing Keith pain.

“Waiting for me?” Keith managed to say, around the shards of glass currently lodged in his throat. He turned away from them, facing his locker instead. He turned the lock with meticulous attention, opening his locker without having to look at Lance once.

“Yeah! I wanted to introduce you to Lyla! And everyone else, obviously, but well, you’re my best friend, you know?”

Keith forced a laugh, turning to face Lance with an easy smile on his face. He’d always been pretty good at hiding his feelings behind a facade. It was all thanks to the orphanage: showing a weakness around that place was like asking to be bullied. “What about Hunk?” He smiled at Lyla then, too, and she smiled back tentatively. She was pretty. And seemed nice. Keith thought he might throw up blood.

“Hunk too, of course,” Lance said easily. He turned to look at Lyla, his face brightening even more at the sight of her. The only thing keeping Keith from tearing his eyes out of his own head right then and there was the fact it would probably be viewed as weird. “Anyway, this is Keith. I told you about him.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lyla said, reaching out a hand to Keith. He shook it. She smiled some more. Keith wished she would spontaneously combust—he’d read somewhere that that actually happened every once in a while.

“Well we’ve gotta get to class!” Lance said finally, appearing very happy over the outcome of the entire exchange. “See you at lunch Keith!” With that, he turned around, leaning in to talk lowly in Lyla’s ear as they walked away. Still, Keith could hear what he said: “Maybe you’ll want to sit with us?”

Keith finally turned around to go to his first class, his content expression melting off his face with a grimace.

—

(22:56) Pidge: are fruit roll ups really a foot long?

(22:58) Hunk: if they’re not then we’ve been lied to since childhood

(22:58) Pidge: i’m gonna find out

(22:58) Pidge: i’m gonna go buy a fruit roll up

(22:59) Hunk: are you serious?!?! it’s so late! we have school tomorrow!!!

(23:00) Hunk: pidge?

(23:32) Pidge: THEY ARE NOT

(23:32) Pidge: THIS ISN’T EVEN,,, A ROLL UP??

(23:33) Pidge: [IMAGE SENT]

(23:33) Pidge: I’M SO CONFUSED ????

(23:40) Shiro: That’s because you bought a fruit roll up. It’s fruit by the foot that you’re thinking of.

(23:44) Pidge: okay well are THOSE actually a foot long??????

(23:44) Shiro: They’re almost three feet long actually.

(23:50) Pidge: i’ve been SCAMMED

(23:50) Pidge: into buying this MEDIOCRE flap THING instead of THREE FEET of sugary goodness

(23:50) Pidge: i’m going back to the store

(23:53) Shiro: Please Pidge just go to bed!

(6:45) Lance: no way a three foot long thing of sugar can be good for your pores

(6:45) Lance: think of your SKIN woman!!!!

(8:02) Keith: Wikipedia says they’re 48% sugar.

(8:02) Lance: wake up earlier you heathen

—

The next time a party arose, Keith felt readily prepared. He'd been trying to brace himself all evening for the fact that he would probably see Lance making out with Lyla in some corner, or disappearing into a room with him. He would’ve thought seeing it all the time would make it less painful to witness, but nope. Every time Keith saw them peck lips in the hallways or hold hands during lunch he felt his heart slowly but surely crumple inside his chest.

Thankfully he was expecting more of a distraction than usual, thanks to Shiro and Allura being home for winter break. It'd taken Pidge approximately two seconds to convince them to come to the party with them, inevitably some part of her charm.

"A high school party?" Allura had said incredulously. "Now that we've experienced _college_  parties?"

But Pidge had managed to wrestle them into it ("We haven't gone to a party together in _so long_ ") and now they were back in Coran's house, all holed up in Keith's room as they finished getting ready to go.

"I don't know why we decided Keith's rom was a good home base," Lance said as he peered into Keith's closet. He'd claimed that he needed a better shirt to wear, everyone having already seen the one he was wearing currently during school, but had been complaining about the lack of choice in Keith's closet ever since.

"It's closest," Hunk shrugged.

"And I haven't been home in forever," Allura added. "And all my clothes and makeup is here." Keith smiled at this. The house had felt oddly lonely without her. The house always felt quieter when she wasn’t around, when he couldn’t holler down the stairs for her to put some toast down for him before he ran out the door _please_.

“I’ll be a laughing stock,” Lance cried dramatically, lifting his hand to his forehead and collapsing backwards onto Keith’s bed. Keith moved out of the way just in time, sighing sufferingly as he made his way into the closet himself. He grabbed the first shirt he could find.

“Wear this.”

“It’s black.”

“So?”

“I never wear black!”

“All the more reason to wear it,” Keith insisted, tossing it onto Lance’s splayed form. “Everyone looks good in black. And mysterious.”

“You just like to _think_  you look mysterious,” Pidge piped up, looking up from the place she was sitting cross legged on the floor. She had Keith’s astronomy textbook open on her lap—her schedule had been too full to fit the class this year, something she was infinitely annoyed about.

“Don’t tell him he doesn’t look mysterious,” Hunk reprimanded. He, too, was lounging on Keith’s bed—under the covers and everything. “You look super mysterious Keith.”

Keith looked down at his outfit, frowning. “Maybe I’ll wear a white shirt,” he pondered.

“Look what you’ve done Pidge!” Hunk shouted. “You’ve made him insecure!”

Lance, meanwhile, was stripping his shirt over his head (Keith gulped, trying and failing not to stare) and pulling Keith’s shirt on as replacement. He looked down at himself, then up at Keith, who blinked and tried to pretend that he hadn’t been almost drooling at the sight of Lance’s body.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Great,” Keith said weakly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Really great.”

Lance pressed his nose into his shoulder and inhaled. “Smells like you,” he commented. Keith’s face went bright red. Pidge was staring at him, not that Keith noticed.

“W-what’s that supposed to me?”

“It’s not a _bad_  thing,” Lance insisted, finally standing up and going to stand in front of the mirror. He looked at himself considerably, then turned to look at himself from side.

Keith decided not to press the issue, instead striding into his bathroom and shutting the door. His face was bright red—he could see it in the mirror—and he had to take a deep breath to try to get himself to calm down. Lance was wearing his shirt… he could deal with this. He could deal with Lance looking really hot in his shirt.

He flushed the toilet to keep up appearances and re-emerged in his room. Everyone’s voices created a quiet litany in the space, but Shiro turned to look at him when he reappeared.

“Ready to go?” he asked, everyone jumping to their feet accordingly. Keith nodded, and then they were all thundering down the stairs.

“Be safe!” Coran hollered after them from somewhere in the house, to which he got a chorus of responses. Shiro got behind the wheel, seeming for all the world like the dad of the group, and Keith ended up smushed in the back with Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. There really wasn’t room for all of them, which Keith supposed was why Lance immediately seated himself in Hunk’s lap.

“I can’t see out the mirror,” Shiro complained, looking into the rearview mirror.

“I’ll lean!” said Lance, leaning towards Keith to demonstrate. Without a better solution, Shiro accepted this for what it was and was pulling out of the driveway, maneuvering down neighborhood streets to get them to the party. It was long since dark out, just about creeping towards 10, and the house in which the party was located almost appeared to be shaking with the vibrations of the music. Shiro ended up having to park the car an entire block down, and then they were all scrambling out of the car and turning towards the house.

Keith kept quiet as the usual talk from his friends surrounded him. He was used to listening, to easing himself out of conversations until his friends yanked him back in. But he liked being on the sidelines, sometimes, liked listening to what everyone had to say.

Lance disappeared almost immediately upon entering the party, and then the rest of them were left to split up and mingle among each other and other possible party guests while they snagged drinks from the kitchen whenever more alcohol was produced, usually by someone new’s arrival. Keith had downed a couple by the time he started to feel truly remorse, having seen Lance and Lyla making out in several corners of the house. Why did they keep moving around? What was it about different corners?

He was broken out of his thoughts as someone came to lean against the wall beside him, their shoulder bumping his. “Hey,” they said. Keith turned to look at him, feeling his mouth go a little dry at what he saw. He had no clue why an attractive boy had come to talk to him, and he’d never seen him around either. He must’ve gone to some other nearby high school.

"Um. Hi," Keith replied, his eyes wide with a mix of worry and awe.

"You're cute," said the boy, so forward that Keith was taken aback.

"Oh," he said, stuttering over some kind of thanks, his face red.

"I'm sorry, did I read you totally wrong? I thought you were..."

"Oh! I mean, yeah. I am. Um."

"Awesome," the boy laughed, smiling again. "Wanna get out of here?"

Normally, Keith wouldn't have agreed, but he'd been watching Lance and Lyla grinding against a wall all night and he was feeling particularly bad about himself. So he shrugged, said, "Sure," and let the cute boy take his hand. They didn't end up 'getting out of there', instead just shutting themselves in the laundry room. It was right off the kitchen, small and cramped with the washer and dryer, but the cute boy leading Keith didn't seem to mind, and so Keith couldn't either.

"I don't normally sneak into laundry rooms with boys," Keith said slowly, the door having clicked shut behind them, the room only lit by a small window high on the wall, letting moonlight trickle in.

"I'll consider myself lucky," the boy hummed, stepping forward and placing his hands on Keith's hips. He'd never been close to another boy like this, and his breath hitched when the boy's thumb slid under the hem of his shirt.

In moments, they were kissing. The boy was _good_  at it, his lips and tongue working Keith up, making him gasp. He helped him hop onto the laundry machine, the two of them gripping one another and pulling each other closer and closer.

"Fuck," Keith gasped, when the boy's hand snuck under the waistband of his jeans, pressing against him. He felt his face heat up.

"This okay?"

"Y-yeah."

And then they were kissing again, lost in each other, in an experience of sensations Keith had never felt before. The boy’s hand was moving against him, and he was gasping into his mouth, shivering under his ministrations.

He was so caught up in it that he didn’t hear his friends calling for him—not until it was too late, anyway.

“Why would he be in the—?“ someone was saying loudly, right before the laundry room door was yanked open and light and music spilled into the small space. Keith and the boy’s mouths jerked apart as they turned to stare, Keith’s eyes wide with horror as he made eye contact with Pidge, standing right there in the doorway. Her mouth was wide open, her glasses sliding down to the bridge of her nose while she did nothing to push them back up.

“What, is he making out in there?” Hunk’s voice said, full of laughter, somewhere close but out of sight, before he too turned the corner and was standing in the door. “Oh!” he said, eyes fixed on Keith and the boy, still pressed so close together, both of their mouths red, their cheeks hot.

“You guys find him?” Shiro said, also appearing in the door. _This can’t be happening_ , Keith thought desperately, as Shiro’s eyes widened just as Pidge and Hunk’s had.

“I’m ready to go!” Allura complained, of course also coming to stand in the doorway and gape at Keith.

And that only left—

“ _Keith_? KEEEIIITH!” Lance’s loud voice echoed through the house. “Oh hey guys!” he greeted, probably at the end of the hall. “Why are you all standing in the—“ Lance came into view and glanced into the laundry room. “WHAT  _the_  HECK?”

Face on fire and having not breathed for this entire encounter, Keith finally shoved the other boy away from him, oxygen whooshing into his lungs as he yanked the boy’s hand out of his pants and buttoned his jeans without making eye contact with any of his friends.

Hunk nudged Pidge, completely obviously while trying to be subtle, and Pidge cleared her throat. “Um. So. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Keith muttered, shoving through his friends without a backward glance at the guy who’d just had a hand down his pants, marching through the house like he was on a mission. He could hear everyone following, whispering to each other, and he kind of wished he could just explode on the spot. Sure, Coran knew about him being gay, and he was actually really glad about that now, but that didn’t mean he was ready for _everyone_  to know. The redness in his face wouldn’t go down at all and he felt like he didn’t know how to walk properly, having to put extra thought into every step he took.

By the time they reached the car Keith had started thinking that he might be able to make it crash with sheer force of will, therefore making him never have to talk to his friends about this. He climbed in first, slid all the way against the door, and looked out the window, his hands shoved between his legs and his fingers twisted tightly together. He felt about ready to break out into sobs at any moment; he only hopped he could manage to hold it all in until he got back to his house. Where Allura would possibly be able to hear him, and then tell everyone else about it. Keith sighed.

Hunk slid into the front seat this time. Keith didn’t have to heart to watch who would be the one to slide in next to him after they’d caught him doing… _that_. Still, he couldn’t possibly not recognize the shoulder that bonked familiarly against his, and he darted a look at Lance out of the corner of his eye before looking back out the window. Pidge cleared her throat, trying to break the silence. Keith ignored her.

Shiro started the car and they drove away from the house, still spilling light and music, in complete silence. Keith didn’t think he had ever sat so stiffly. His back was aching from trying to keep his arm from touching Lance’s.

Suddenly, Lance smacked his hands on his own knees loudly, making everybody jump, and proclaimed, “SO, BUDDY!”

Keith flinched, his head hitting the window in surprise. “Ow,” he muttered. Lance frowned.

“Sorry.”

Keith shrugged.

The car was just as silent as before, until Lance huffed in annoyance, wrapping his arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulling him into himself. Keith didn’t resist simply out of surprise.

“You okay?” Lance said.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good. And you’re gay?”

Keith choked, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Um. Yeah.”

“Good, good,” Lance repeated. “And you know that that’s all good right? Literally none of us think anything bad about that. You could’ve told us.” And just like that, Keith was melting into Lance, turning his head into his shoulder and sighing in relief.

“I know. I was just being dumb, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Lance assured him, squeezing his shoulder. Everyone else was chiming in too, agreeing with Lance and telling Keith they loved him et. cetera et. cetera. Keith was kind of shaking, overwhelmed with so many feelings all at once. There was the residual terror and annoyance and guilt left over from when _somehow_  all his friends had walked in on him with another guy’s hand in his pants, combined with the relief and genuine joy from his friends all being such incredible people. Lance was rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“So who was that guy?” Pidge finally asked, after Keith had huffed, sat up, and shoved Lance’s arm off him.

“Some guy,” Keith said with a shrug. “Didn’t go to our school.”

“Well what was his name?”

A pause. “I don’t know.”

“Slut!” Pidge coughed into her fist, and just like that Keith was rolling his eyes and smiling and everyone else was laughing. The rest of the short ride home felt easy and normal. Hunk demanded that Keith get out of the car so that he could hug him when they stopped by his house to drop him off, and Keith complied only because he knew Hunk would hug him much more bruisingly the next time they saw each other otherwise. They dropped off Pidge next, who fist bumped Keith, and finally Lance, who hugged him before sliding across the seat and opening the door. After the initial comforting and conversation that had followed, Lance had fallen kind of quiet, contemplative.

“See you guys later!” he called, winking at Keith (Keith scoffed) and running up his driveway. When Shiro finally pulled in front of the house and parked, he turned off the car but didn’t get out.

“You alright Keith?” he asked, turning in his seat to look back at him. Allura was doing the same.

“I’m fine,” Keith said, surprisingly honest, and smiled. He kind of felt better than ever, actually, knowing everyone had reacted so well to everything, that now he didn’t have to hide a part of himself.

“Does Coran know?” Allura asked.

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “I think he’s kind of always known,” he added with a contemplative frown, staring down at his knees. Coran hadn’t only known about his sexuality, he’d also seemed to have known about his feelings for Lance. Keith swallowed uneasily, remembering Lance’s arm resting around his shoulders for so much of the car ride. “Think I’m gonna go to bed now,” he said, climbing out of the car before the others.

—

(17:08) Hunk: alright fuck, marry, kill. darth vadar, rapunzel, and bigfoot. go.

(17:20) Hunk: you GUYS!!! COME ON

(17:23) Keith: Fuck Bigfoot, marry Rapunzel, kill Vadar.

(17:25) Hunk: WHAT

(17:26) Keith: Did you expect me to kill Rapunzel just because she was a girl?

(17:28) Hunk: what no totally not

(17:30) Keith: I HAVE to kill Vadar! He’s evil! And Bigfoot is totally interesting and all but I think the novelty would wear off and soon I’d just regret agreeing to marry a giant harry dude. He probably sheds.

(17:33) Lance <333: plus you totally played it wrong! it’s more fun when you put in all good people

(17:33) Lance <333: or people you know

(17:34) Lance <333: KEITH. me, hunk, pidge. go!

(17:34) Keith: Why me?

(17:35) Lance <333: cause your last round was too easy :p

(17:40) Lance <333: CHICKEN !!!!

(17:40) Keith: I’m thinking.

(17:41) Lance: :O

(17:43) Keith: Fuck Pidge, marry Hunk, kill Lance :)

(17:43) Lance <333: WHAT

(17:44) Lance <333: WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!!! WHY!!

(17:45) Hunk: HAHAHAHA WINNERRRRR

(17:46) Keith: Because you asked the question

(17:46) Keith: And because Hunk will be a good husband and cook for me. And cause I can’t kill a girl.

(17:46) Hunk: <3

(17:49) Lance <333: how sexist keith. i thought you were better than this smh :/

(18:01) Pidge: BAAHAHAHAH

(18:01) Pidge: when you’re a girl and keith still chooses you over lance ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

(18:03) Lance <333: I WOULD ROCK KEITH’S WORLD WAY BETTER THAN YOU EVER COULD

(18:03) Pidge: PROVE IT

(18:05) Lance <333: YOU, ME, AND KEITH. HIS BEDROOM. 9’OCLOCK SHARP.

(18:07) Keith: Oh god please stop.

—

Lance was sitting on his bed. Laying, actually, not that this was an unusual occurrence. Keith just kind of… hadn’t expected it to be happening, now. Maybe that was dumb. That he’d thought Lance knowing he was gay would keep him from getting anywhere near Keith’s bed. Either way, Keith had decided to play it safe and sat himself down in his desk chair, his legs stretched out and resting on the edge of the bed.

“How’d you know you were gay?” Lance said suddenly, staring at the ceiling, his arms behind his head. Keith stiffened instinctively, before reminding himself he had nothing to worry about. This was just Lance. He didn’t have to feel embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… knew.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, like. I got a crush on a boy in middle school so…”

“Oh, that makes sense. Who?”

Keith spluttered, his face going red. “I don’t know!” he said abruptly. Lance quirked an eyebrow at him. “I mean, um. He was in a grade above us. I never knew his name.”

“Do you have a type?” Lance said then, and Keith felt his face go red. God, okay, maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about this shit. And maybe it wasn’t just because he was gay, or because he was fucking in love with Lance, it was just an embarrassing topic in general! He didn’t understand how Lance could go on about girls and his feelings and interests all the time—it was mortifying.

“I don’t know,” Keith finally decided, and Lance pouted.

“That’s boring.”

“Sorry.” Keith cleared his throat. “Why?”

“Why is it boring?”

“No, why are you asking me? You don’t think you’re gay, do you?”

Lance choked, eyes wide. “Um—no, no. I mean. I like girls, you know? I’ve always liked girls. I couldn’t be gay,” he said, laughing nervously. Keith narrowed in on this nervous laughter and prayed to God for just one favor, right here and now.

“I mean,” Keith said, pausing and clearing his throat. “Bisexuality, you know?”

“What?”

“What?”

“What is that?” Lance asked, sitting up on his elbows, his eyes wide.

“Um. You don’t know?”

“Should I?”

Keith shrugged. “It just means you like both.”

Lance looked floored. “That’s a _thing_?”

“Yeah, totally,” Keith said. They were talking about this so casually, and Lance was looking so… so… like _that_ , and his heart was beating about a billion times a minute. Could Lance possibly like guys? Were Keith’s chances closer to a 0% rather than a -12754%?

“So?” Keith prompted. “Do you think you’re…?”

“What? Oh! No, I mean, no. I don’t… I don’t think so, you know?” But Lance wasn’t quite looking at him, instead staring at the ceiling again, his lip tugged in his mouth.

“Oh okay,” Keith said, and that was that. Except for the fact that his stomach felt all twisted inside.

—

“Alright I’ve got God-tier snacks,” Hunk announced, plopping two grocery bags down on Keith’s bed.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Pidge quickly decided, shoving her hand into a bag and pulling out snacks at random. In no time she’d ripped open wrappers and shoved chips into her mouth, humming with content. She licked her fingers.

“God-tier,” she confirmed.

“You should trust my snacking abilities,” Hunk answered, hurt.

Keith hadn’t even realized they’d come into his house yet, having just gotten out of the shower. He was still in the bathroom when all of this was going on, the mirror too steamed up to see his face. But he and his friends had always had an open-door policy going on, meaning they walked into each other’s houses so often that they were greeted by each other’s parents like their real children.

He hadn’t known Lance had showed up either and was currently laying on top of his bed, surrounded by the newly purchased snacks. They’d agreed to meet around eight in the group chat but for some reason everyone had showed up at seven, leaving Keith not wholly prepared when he walked out of his bathroom, expecting to be alone.

“AH!” Keith announced, towel around his waist as he emerged, a cloud of smoke trailing him.

“Keith!” Hunk responded. “You’re naked!”

“Well you’re early!” Keith rebutted, crossing his arms over his bare chest self-consciously. He’d never been much for being on display, kind of the opposite of Lance, who was shirtless practically whenever he was at his own home.

“You’re trying to _seduce us_!” Pidge cried, extending her hands from her face and holding them towards Keith in horror, blocking her own view of him.

“Well, only two of us,” Lance shrugged from the bed. Keith didn’t notice as his eyes trailed him from head to toe, and then back up again. “I don’t think he’d want to seduce you, Pidge.”

“My androgynous looks do magic on all sexualities, I’ll tell you,” Pidge sighed dramatically, and Keith huffed and turned away from them all, holding onto his towel as he riffled through his dresser, grabbing some clothes to change into. He marched right back into the bathroom to put them on.

“Prude!” Pidge called after him.

Soon enough Keith was dressed and feeling much more comfortable, which was good, considering they were about to watch a movie accompanied by junk food. They ended up pulling it up on Keith’s laptop and setting it on his desk chair while they all piled onto his bed. The movie was cheesy and dramatic and they had more fun insulting the plot-line and making fun of the characters than actually paying attention, which made it all the more fun. The entire time Keith’s arm was pressed against Lance's, making it a bit more difficult to concentrate on the movie.

The credits rolled but they barely noticed, instead muting the movie and continuing to munch on snacks, talking about anything and everything. School came up, and dumb teachers and cool teachers, and, annoyingly, Lyla.

“How’s Lyla?” Pidge asked, leaning around Hunk and Keith to look at Lance as she said this. Except she had an expectant look on her face, and Keith didn’t notice when her eyes darted to him and back again.

“Oh,” Lance said, looking awkward. “I don’t know, I mean. We’ve kind of fizzled out.”

There was a stunned silence.

“ _What_?” Hunk whispered.

“Yeah, I mean. It wasn’t a big deal. We were just kind of not the right fit for each other, you know? Like, not too much in common.”

“Lance, the last time someone broke up with you, you called me crying in the car with your music on full blast,” Hunk said. “I had to bring over _three_  gallons of ice cream to make you stop crying!”

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, sounding uncomfortable. “I’ve matured.”

Hunk was staring at him, wide-eyed, looking kind of terrified. Keith felt inclined to agree.

“Guys, come on! It’s not a big deal!” Lance protested, staring at their faces.

“This is probably a dream,” Keith concluded aloud. “We’re all collectively dreaming this together, hoping we won’t have to deal with Lance being sad for a whole week after he and Lyla inevitably come to an end.”

“Yeah that must be it,” Hunk agreed, Pidge nodding along.

“I hate you guys,” Lance muttered, fake pouting and burying himself under Keith’s covers. And just like that, everyone was dispersing. Hunk and Pidge retreated to their floor bed, just like they always did, and Keith stared at the other side of his bed tentatively. They hadn’t had a sleepover since he’d come out. Wouldn’t it be weird for him to sleep in the same bed as any of them, now that they knew?

Sure, they’d been having sleepovers like this for years, and he and Lance had shared a bed more times than he could count, but he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t be weirded out now. Keith slowly maneuvered himself off the bed, only barely started to stand before Lance was rolling over, peering up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh—I, well I thought, Um. I mean… You probably want to sleep alone, right?”

“What? Why would you think that?” Lance argued, sitting up more. “Where would you sleep?”

“On the floor somewhere,” Keith muttered.

“Why?” Lance asked, his brows furrowed. Pidge scoffed from the floor.

“He’s obviously being insecurely gay right now. Lance isn’t scared of you feeling him up in the night, Keith.”

“I—I didn’t say that!” Keith protested, staring into the darkness that was the floor by his bed with wide eyes, not that Pidge could even really see him.

“Keith!” Lance protested, his voice shrill and annoyed. “How dare you think so little of me! Get in the bed!”

And so Keith did. He laid at the very edge and felt unable to fall asleep, more stiff next to Lance than he’d ever been before. It took ten minutes of the four of them chatting, followed by another ten minutes of him pretending to be asleep, for it to finally be fixed. Lance reached out and jerked him towards the middle of the bed, making Keith gasp.

“What’re you—”

“Shut up,” Lance answered. “And stop acting weird. Nothing’s changed.” With that, he shoved his head next to Keith’s arm and was snoring in no time. Keith still found it a bit hard to fall asleep, instead staring up the ceiling, feeling Lance’s each and every breath against him.

—

Keith walked through the front door with a huff, pulling his bag onto his shoulders more securely. School hadn’t been too horrible, other than Lyla staring daggers at him all day for some reason. She’d been doing it for the last week or so, ever since Keith had learned about Lance breaking up with her.

He was going over to Lance’s soon to work on their physics homework together but first he was stopping by home, popping in to get the binders he needed and say hi to Coran.

“Hi Coran,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. Coran was leaning against the counter, twirling his mustache in one hand as he held a newspaper in front of him with the other.

“Keith!” he greeted. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Keith said with a shrug, plopping his bag down on the counter. He unzipped it and started riffling through the contents. “How was your school?”

“Middle-schoolers,” Coran said by way of explanation. Keith shivered.

“I’m about to head over to Lance’s, actually,” he said, not looking at Coran as he said it. Lately, Coran had been giving him a certain kind of look whenever he mentioned Lance. Like he _knew_. And Keith kind of didn’t want anybody to know he was in love with Lance, seeing as it was embarrassing and personal and probably never going to happen. Most likely it would just ruin his friendship with him because of how awkward it would be.

“Keith, listen,” Coran said seriously, and Keith sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, trying to think of an excuse to run away. He couldn't claim that there was a fire across the street again—that had been too easily seen-through, especially after Coran had called 911 and had firetrucks pulling up on their street.

“What?” Keith finally said, resigning to not make Coran have to call the cops or something this time.

“I know it’s not entirely my business, but I’m an adult. And more importantly, a teacher,” he started. Keith felt himself stiffen, felt his face harden. “But most importantly, I’m your father, Keith. Or I’ve always been like one.”

Keith looked up from where he’d been staring at the counter. Coran was smiling at him. Keith tentatively smiled back.

“As a teacher, I kind of know what these things look like. And as a father, I just want you to be happy, Keith.”

“I know.”

“And I think, maybe, telling Lance how you feel might make you happy.”

Keith stood still, didn’t respond. He pursed his lips.

“Love isn’t a fickle thing, Keith,” Coran added. “Just because you won’t tell him doesn’t mean it’ll go away.”

“Whatever,” Keith muttered, his cheeks pink, and turned to leave the kitchen. He took two steps into the entry way and froze.

There stood Lance, his shoe half off as if he’d just walked in, gaping at Keith.

Keith took one, panicked look at him and bolted. Running past him was obviously not an option so he turned tail and pounded up the stairs, already panting like he’d run a marathon. He didn’t even know what Lance was  _doing here_ —they’d agreed to meet at his house!

He could hear Lance running up the stairs behind him, shouting " _Wait_!” but Keith wasn’t taking any chances. He sprinted into his room and slammed the door shut behind him, wheezing, and turned the look. A second later Lance was colliding with it, the doorknob jiggling as he banged against the door.

“You serious bro?” he demanded, the pounding stopping for a moment. “You _know_  I’m a master lock-picker.”

“Fuck,” Keith whispered, backing away from the door with a horrified look. There wasn’t any banging anymore, meaning Lance was already working on the lock—that left only one option.

He tore across the room and threw the window open, pulling the screen from it with a careless tug. He already had an arm and a leg out of it by the time his bedroom door burst open, revealing Lance.

“Keith! What are you doing!” Lance screeched immediately, freezing right where he was with wide eyes. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

Keith looked down at the fifteen foot drop. He considered it.

“Stop being _nuts_ ,” Lance demanded, suddenly much closer than Keith had realized. He made a panicked motion, possibly about to fling himself from the window, but Lance’s arms were wrapping around his chest and yanking him back into his room. They collapsed on the floor together, both panting.

Keith let his head rest against the floor, his eyes closed. Now that adrenaline was no longer zipping through his nerves, he could feel his embarrassment resonating deep throughout his entire body.

“Was what Coran said true?” Lance asked quietly, as if Keith trying to throw himself from a second-story window wasn’t answer enough. He shrugged. “Keith.”

“Yes, okay?” Keith finally said, opening his eyes just to glare at Lance. They were still tangled together but Keith pushed him off. He stood up and crossed his arms, and Lance scrambled to his feet as well. “Why does it even matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“Lance…”  
Lance took a step closer, and Keith only didn’t take a step back because he still wasn’t really feeling too steady on his feet. He might’ve tripped and fallen out the window.

“Keith, I…” Keith looked away, knowing what he was going to hear. Lance was a good enough friend that he probably wouldn’t cut Keith out of his life because of this. He’d just feel awkward and a bit embarrassed, but he’d tell Keith that it was okay, that he didn’t mind. “I broke up with Lyla for you.”

“What?” Lance had known that Keith was in love with him? And broken up with Lyla to… avoid hurting his feelings, or something? What the fuck?

“Because I… Well, I’ve realized that I… I like you. Like. Like you, like you.”

Keith’s chin was on the floor. He felt like maybe someone should pick it up, it was probably a hazard just laying on the ground like that, but he couldn’t even make himself speak. “I—” he finally managed. “ _What_?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why Lyla’s been glaring at me all week?” Keith asked, his mind kind of jumping and skittering over the fact that _Lance liked him_ , that Lance was apparently _not straight_.

“Oh—has she? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just, I wanted to tell her why I was breaking up with her, you know? I told her I had feelings for you.”

Keith had been staring towards Lance’s feet in shock, but he finally looked up, finally let his eyes lock with Lance’s. Lance was smiling kind of sheepishly, and he took a small step forward, his eyebrow raised.

“Um,” said Keith, intelligently.

Lance took another step forward, and he reached out, snagging Keith’s hand. “I really, really like you,” Lance said. “And I was stupid enough to not realize it until you… until you told me that being bisexual was a thing. And then it was like _wham_! Like I was drowning in all the feelings I hadn’t realized were _romantic_  kind of feelings and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for even like, two seconds and I told Hunk and he told me that it sounded pretty serious and maybe I should tell you but I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to experiment with you because you’re the only gay guy I know or something but—”

Keith’s eyes were wide, his ears overflowing with new information, and he slapped his hand over Lance’s mouth. “You made me realize I was gay,” Keith said. And then Lance’s eyes widened, his mouth trying to move beneath Keith’s hand. And then Keith realized how embarrassing that actually was to reveal and he pressed his hand harder against Lance’s mouth, not wanting to hear what he could possibly say to that.

Lance reached up and ripped his hand away, already half way through a sentence. “—loved me since _middle school_?”

“Shut up!” Keith shouted, trying to cover Lance’s mouth again, but Lance had pinned his hands by his sides and was grinning too widely.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he informed Keith, to which Keith could only widen his eyes, his heart having somehow found its way into his throat. And then Lance _was_  kissing him, both their eyes fluttering shut. Lance’s lips were warm and smooth against his. For a moment, he just pressed them there, and Keith smiled against Lance. But then Lance was kissing him a bit more intensely, a bit deeper, and Keith’s knees felt week. He’d thought that boy at the party had been a good kisser but _Lance_ … Lance was like…

“Holy shit,” Keith gasped, pulling away for air, his eyes wide as he stared at Lance.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just—I mean—you’re _good_  at that.” It was the wrong thing to say. Because Lance smirked, his eyebrows raising just once, and then he was kissing Keith again—but this time he was actually _trying_.

His tongue darted against Keith’s mouth. Cue: gasp, followed by more tongue, followed by Keith not remembering how to stand. Lance’s tongue licked against the roof of his mouth, his teeth nipped at Keith’s lip, his hands pressed against Keith’s lower back, holding the both of them close, close, close to each other.

When Lance pulled away from him they were still standing just as close, both gasping, except Lance seemed to know exactly what he had done. He was the smuggest he’d ever looked, and Keith was just clinging to him, dazed, his mouth gaping.

“Holy shit,” he repeated, and Lance finally broke, just started laughing. He pressed his head against Keith’s shoulder, giggling, and hugged him.

“You’re so cute,” he laughed, his hands coming up to hold Keith’s face, to tangle in his hair. “I can’t believe I thought I was straight for so long. I was just like, yeah, sometimes I want to press myself against Keith and hum into his neck and maybe lick his ear but that’s all perfectly normal for a straight dude.”

Keith was still kind of reeling from the kiss, and for some reason these words made him lose it. He was sent into giggles against Lance’s neck, and then the two of them were laughing and climbing into his bed, cuddling as they watched random shows on Keith’s laptop.

Later, when they both emerged from his room for dinner, glowing with excitement and happiness and just-kissed-euphoria, Coran just grinned and shook his head.

—

It wasn't that they weren't intending to tell their friends, it was just that in the midsts of their newly blossoming relationship they completely forgot everyone else even existed. It'd been a few days full of spending every possible second together, kissing in each other's beds and giggling against each other's shoulders. Keith couldn't even remember the last time he'd responded to their group chat, too caught up in being with Lance or, if he wasn't with Lance, texting him. Not in the group chat. Privately.

They were leaning against Lance's locker one morning, fingers laced between them as they spoke quietly to each other, heads bent together, when someone actually _roared_  at them. It was Pidge.

They jumped apart, more out of fear than an actual desire to keep their relationship a secret.

"What is _with_  you two!?" Pidge demanded, coming to a stop before them and glaring up at them. Keith could see Hunk peering around the corner at the end of the hallway. They made eye contact and he ducked out of the way with a gasp.

"Sorry?" Lance said, sounding dazed. Probably because Keith had just told him that maybe later today they could do something a little _more_  than kiss.

"You haven't texted us in _days_! And yesterday you weren't even at lunch!" she shrieked. Nobody even stopped in the hallway to stare, this was so regular. They just continued on their way to class.

"I guess we've just been bu—"

"I sent a great meme in the group chat this morning," Pidge fumed. "You didn't even have the courtesy to give it a 'HA HA'. Or at LEAST thumbs it up! I mean _come on_ , man!"

Lance just blinked. "What meme?"

Pidge scoffed. "Wouldn't _you_  like to know."

"Pidge," Keith finally interrupted. He rarely found the memes the two of them sent in the group chat funny anyway, so this was probably a good time to put an end to the conversation. "We haven't been ignoring you on purpose."

Pidge crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised.

"We've just been... distracted." Keith was very suddenly losing confidence. He hadn't for a second thought anyone would disapprove of their relationship, but now that the time was nigh, he found himself panicking. What if Pidge yelled at them? What if she said something about how if they broke up there'd be tension in the friend group? And even more than that, Keith just felt _embarrassed_. The same kind of embarrassed he felt underlying anytime his sexuality was mentioned. It wasn't that he was ashamed, it was just that he was still getting used to everyone knowing about it. And now Pidge was about to know that he liked to kiss Lance and hold him close and whisper into his ear? That was personal!

"By WHAT?" Pidge finally burst out, tired of waiting. Keith felt his face go red. He looked to Lance, whose cheeks were also kind of pink, but he smirked and threw his arm around Keith's shoulders.

"We've been busy making out twenty-four-seven."

Keith sighed. Of course Lance had to say it like that.

Pidge's eyes widened, and then her mouth fell open and she slapped herself in the forehead. "It was so _obvious_!" she groaned, before spinning on her heal and marching down the hall, most likely to tell Hunk.

Lance looked at Keith and shrugged. "That went well."

—

(7:34) Pidge: hey guys i have a question

(7:34) Pidge: keith and lance don't bother answering you untruthful fucks

(7:35) Lance <333: we weren't not telling you in purpose!!! we just forgot!!!

(7:35) Shiro: Forgot what?

(7:37) Allura: DRAMA? In OUR friend group?

(7:37) Lance <333: it’s more likely than you think!

(7:38) Keith: Shut up Lance.

(7:40) Allura: TELL US THE DRAMAAAAA!!

(7:40) Hunk: lance and keith hate us and don’t tell us anything

(7:40) Keith: You guys are being overdramatic!!

(7:41) Pidge: wow we’re all here at once! this never happens!

(7:41) Pidge: this is perfect we can all bond over how much we hate keith and lance and their retention of truth

(7:41) Keith: WE WEREN’T LYING.

(7:43) Shiro: Can someone please tell us what’s going on?

(7:43) Pidge: KEITH and LANCE are DATING.

(7:43) Pidge: THEY MAKE OUT

(7:43) Pidge: PROBABLY IN LOVE!!!!!!

(7:43) Pidge: AND THEY DIDN’T!! TELL US!!!!

(7:44) Allura: wait wait wait

(7:44) Allura: WHAT

(7:44) Pidge: YEAH

(7:45) Shiro: Keith??? Lance??? Is this true? You guys didn’t want to tell us you were dating?  
(7:45) Lance <333: it’s not that we didn’t want to tell you it’s that we were too busy makin out to remember to do it

(7:45) Lance <333: we forgot you all existed tbh

(7:46) Keith: Please stop telling people we were making out.

(7:46) Lance <333: you’re lookin at the guy who makes keith’s face go all red and his eyes all wide with the mere touch of his lips

(7:46) Keith: That’s not true.

(7:47) Hunk: oh my god

(7:47) Pidge: this is Pornographic

(7:47) Keith: I hate you all.

(7:47) Keith: But we are dating.

(7:47) Keith: Deal with it.

(7:48) Pidge: 0.0

(7:55) Allura: Congratulations you two!

(8:15) Shiro: Wait, what was Pidge going to ask?

—

Keith felt about ready to stab everyone in the nearest vicinity (everyone except Lance, of course). It was just that everyone kept interrupting the times that they planned for themselves to.... get intimate.

They both felt about ready to burst with anticipation and every time they thought they were going to be able to finally do it, they couldn’t. Last week they’d hurried to Keith’s house all excited only to walk through the front door and find Coran.

“What are you doing home?” Keith had demanded, having expected Coran to still be at school for a parent/teacher meeting.

“Ah, I wasn’t feeling well,” Coran had said, and that had been that. Keith and Lance had sulked up the stairs and into his room, where they’d sat next to each other and sighed forlornly. And stuff like this kept happening! They’d be laying on Keith’s bed, their kisses getting deeper, faster, when—

“EW!” Pidge had shrieked, the time she and Hunk had barged into his room during the middle of his and Lance’s make out sesh. Keith had tried to pull away from Lance, face flaming, but Lance had just collapsed on his chest with a groan, trapping him there.

“I hate you both,” he’d said, his fingers still brushing along the exposed skin right above Keith’s hipbone. Pidge’s eyes had followed his fingers. Keith had slapped his hand away.

There didn’t seem to be an easy solution to any of this, either. They couldn’t do it at Lance’s house, obviously, several siblings and siblings’ children constantly littered around the place. Plus, they wanted to take their time with each other. They didn’t want it to be hurried and rushed, wanted to be able to explore each other slowly and liberally, wanted to be able to make it last. They couldn’t do that if they were stuffing it in between moments where they were accompanied by others or not.

The waiting got so long that, horribly, disgustingly, Coran had time to _prepare_.

“Lance! Keith! Just the boys I wanted to see,” he said cheerfully as they walked through the front door after school. Neither of them had bothered to feel even the slightest bit hopeful about Coran being out of the house.

“Um, what’s up?” Keith said, stepping into the living room where Coran was seated.

“Sit down! We need to have a little chat.” He said this with his eyebrows raised, an expectant grin on his face, and Keith felt his stomach slowly fill with terror. Whatever this was, it couldn’t possibly be good.

He and Lance sat beside each other on the couch, looking at Keith.

“Now you two have been dating for a while now,” Coran started, eyeing the both of them seriously. Cautiously, Keith nodded. Lance followed suit. “Now I know you two are teenage boys with high sex drives but there’s still the question of safety.”

“Coran!” Keith yelled, horrified, his eyes wide. “ _Don’t_!”

“Sorry Keith but as your adopted father I’m obligated to talk to you two about this.”

Lance raised his hand. “Since you’re not my adopted dad can I go?”

“Nope. You must stay.”

“Dammit.”

“No cursing around my son.”

“Coran!”

“Just kidding! Okay, now—I trust you two’ll know everything I’m about to talk about already?”

And it turns out, they didn’t. They didn’t know _anything_. Which was terrifying and embarrassing and Keith would never admit it, but he was glad Coran had sat them down to talk before they’d ever had the chance to have sex. Apparently they needed _lube_. Keith hadn’t even known that! And neither had Lance, obviously—he’d been dating girls all his life.

Coran handed them both condoms and lube and they ran away, red-faced and probably never going to recover.

“I can never look him in the face again,” Lance whispered, curled up into a shell-shocked ball on Keith’s bed.

“Yeah well at least you don’t live with him,” Keith answered. He felt like he’d seen a ghost.

—

“Oh my God,” Keith said aloud, stepping into the kitchen and staring at a note scribbled on the counter of the island.

_Keith,_

_I have urgent business this weekend with a fellow teacher—I shall not be home until tomorrow afternoon. Be responsible._

_Love, Coran_

“LANCE,” Keith shouted into his phone, the second Lance picked up (half way through the second ring).

“What? What’s wrong!?”

“Come over now!”

“Why? What’s going on?”

_“Coran’s out of town!”_

Lance didn’t even answer. He just hung up, and literally five minutes later, he was banging on the front door—Keith had locked it behind him, thinking he’d be home alone. He sprinted to the door, yanked it open, and didn’t even have time to close it before Lance was on him. Lance immediately pulled Keith into him, pressing their bodies together and panting against him, his entire chest moving against Keith’s from sprinting from his house.

“Close the door!” Keith insisted, and Lance kicked it shut. And then he let go and locked it, probably remembering the time Hunk and Pidge had walked into the house and then Keith’s room.

“Upstairs,” Lance managed, striding past him and taking the stairs three at a time. He tripped and hit his knee half way up but didn’t seem to notice.

Keith even locked his bedroom door behind them for good measure and then they were grinning at each other, were climbing on his bed and falling into each other, holding one another close.

“I can’t believe we’re finally gonna get to do it,” Lance said, his eyes bright with excitement.

“I know!” Keith could hardly contain himself, could feel himself grinning stupidly. Lance leaned forward and kissed the grin off his mouth, and then it was just like usual, except with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be interrupted this time.

It was probably less than a minute later when Lance had managed to maneuver Keith underneath him, the room quiet except for their breathing and the sounds of them kissing.

“Think we should take off some clothes,” Lance suggested, his cheeks flushed, and Keith nodded frantically. That sounded like a great idea to him.

Lance took off his shirt first (with a flourish) and tossed it to the floor, grinning down at Keith with his hands on either side of his head. Keith felt his mouth go dry, staring up at Lance above him, all golden-skinned and beautiful. He reached up with a shaking hand and pressed it against Lance’s chest. And then his other hand followed, and Lance was smiling down at him as he touched him all over, hands sliding from the planes of his chest to his broad shoulders, coasting up his sides and counting his ribs.

“You gonna let me see you?” Lance murmured, his fingers fiddling with the hem of Keith’s shirt. Keith flushed but he nodded anyway, pulling his shirt off and cringing as Lance’s somehow cold fingers came to touch him.

“Your fingers are cold,” he complained, mainly to cover up how much he was enjoying it.

“My blood’s somewhere else,” Lance responded with a smirk. Keith scoffed at him. Lance continued to touch him, his hands tracing Keith’s skin, skimming around his nipples, following down the hair just above his waistband.

“Can I?” Lance asked, his fingers already in position to unbutton Keith’s jeans. Keith nodded, unable to contain his eagerness, and then he was wiggling out of his jeans with help from Lance, kicking off his underwear with it.

Lance stared. Keith felt self-conscious and considered kicking his boyfriend. And then Lance reached out, and his hand wrapped around Keith’s cock, and Keith sucked in a breath.

“Fuck,” he hissed, as Lance’s hand slowly slid over him.

“I keep forgetting you’ve never done anything like this,” Lance whispered. His thumb flicked over his head and Keith jerked upward with a whine. “That all of this is your first time.”

“Oh,” Keith gasped, arching his hips up into Lance’s hand as he sped up, tightening his grip a little.

“God, you’re cute,” Lance was watching him, watching his _face_ , and Keith glared at him. Lance puckered his lips.

“Listen,” Lance said suddenly. “I wanna—can I…?”

“Can you what?” Keith asked, his hips twitching minusculely into Lance’s hand.

“I mean, I’ve never done it before—obviously—but I think I’d know what to do…”

“What?”

“Um. Blow you?”

“Oh _God_  yes,” Keith answered, and then Lance was smiling and shimmying down the bed, gripping Keith’s hips in his hands and looking up at him. Keith whimpered.

Lance started by tonguing at the head, making Keith jerk before he could stop himself. Lance didn’t stop there: he licked all the way down and back up, leaving cold stripes of saliva in his wake. And then he went back to the head, back to laving it with attention that left Keith shaking. This was all before he finally popped the tip into his mouth, leaving Keith moaning and panting, as he went further and further down, and then back up.

“Oh fuck,” Keith gasped. “You’re—you’re gonna have to stop, I can’t—”

Lance pulled up with a laugh. “That was me my first time, buddy,” he said. “Blew right in her face. Oh God.”

Keith’s cheeks heated at the thought of ‘blowing’ in Lance’s face.

“Um. Lube?” he suggested, in order to distract himself. “And your pants? I can’t believe you’re still wearing those.”

“Too right!” Lance said, and he clambered off the bed and stripped his pants and underwear off in one, grabbing the lube from the bedside table while he was up.

Keith had never fingered himself before, but thanks to Coran and extensive googling on both Keith and Lance’s parts, they felt adequately prepared. It felt weird at first, and then painful and uncomfortable, but after a while the burn subsided, leaving behind only a strange kind of stretching.

“It doesn’t feel good yet?” Lance said with a frown. He was laying between Keith’s legs on his elbows, one hand, well… _in_  Keith, and the other just holding his balls, rolling them in his palm every once in a while.

“Not really,” Keith admitted. He’d been embarrassed about Lance doing it for him at first, and just hanging out between his legs while he did, but it’d grown sort of comfortable, really. He liked how surprisingly easy everything was between them, how unafraid and unembarrassed he felt.

“Damn. I mean I know I read something about a prost—”

Keith jerked with a gasp as Lance’s fingers very suddenly pressed against something inside him, something that had stars exploding in the back of his head, something that had him grinding down on Lance’s hand just to feel it again.

“Woah! What…?”

“Touch it again!” Keith begged, his eyes half lidded as he arched up, needing Lance’s fingers. “Fuck.”

Lance did touch it again, after a bit of searching, and then he pressed down on it, rubbing against it.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Keith moaned, his eyes fully closed now.

They couldn’t wait much longer after that. Lance was tearing open one of the many condoms they’d been provided with and was lubing himself up seconds later, lining up against Keith with his eyebrows raised questionably. Keith nodded.

It hurt, at first. But Lance was patient, and he went slow, and he made it feel good. Soon enough they were moving against each other, moaning and panting into one another’s ears, asking for more, harder, faster, and then going slower, softer, longer.

“Jesus Lance,” Keith gasped, as Lance went from pounding into him, his prostate singing with pleasure, back to slow all over again. He couldn’t decide what he liked more, the fast, hard, quick-paced way, or the slow, aching, devastating way. He always protested when Lance switched it up only to decide he liked what they were doing presently more. “You’re fucking good at this.”

“I would sure hope so,” Lance grunted, pushing deep into Keith and just staying there for a moment. Keith squeezed around him, gripped his shoulder and whined his name.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. So Lance didn’t. He kept going, getting faster again, and then the bed was bouncing and Keith was groaning and Lance was whispering to him.

“I’m close Keith, fuck—God.”

And Keith was clinging to him, struggling to breathe, and then he was coming, clenching around Lance sporadically and holding him tighter, closer as he did. Lance followed right after him, moaning into his ear and kissing right below it, his fingers tangling in his hair and tugging.

Slowly, they came back down from it, jerking and twitching against each other, soft and sore and achey, in Keith’s case. Lance kissed him on the lips with a hum.

“That was awesome,” he said, grinning against Keith’s mouth, and Keith laughed, throwing his head back against the pillow behind him. Lance took this opportunity to start kissing his neck, and Keith shoved him away with a groan.

Still smiling, Lance finally pulled out of him, making Keith wince a bit with the loss. Lance tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash while Keith cleaned up his own mess with a wad of tissues.

“Let’s do it again soon,” Lance said into his ear.

“Deal,” Keith said, and then Lance was rolling on top of him, burying his face into Keith’s shoulder and breathing out a long sigh. Keith didn’t bother to protest, instead just lacing his fingers in Lance’s hair and closing his eyes, content.

—

(2:04) Keith: i am so very in love with lance i love him at all times of every single day

(2:04) Keith: my loins ache for him

(2:04) Keith: he is more attractive than all of you and if two of you were hanging off a cliff and lance was sunbathing and i could only save one of you i’d save lance from a sunburn

(2:04) Keith: lance has a gREAT PESNI

(2:07) Pidge: what the FUCK is going on

(2:07) Lance <333: That was Lance. From my phone.

(2:07) Lance <333: It’s okay though I already killed him.

(2:07) Lance <333: You’ll never hear from him again.

(2:08) Keith: hey guys,,, get this: keith has HEARTS by my name!!!

(2:08) Lance <333: YOU PUT THEM THERE!

(2:08) Lance <333: THE DAY I GOT A PHONE

(2:08) Keith: jesus dude are you serious?? i don’t even remember doing that wtf

(2:09) Keith: you loooooveee meeee :)

(2:10) Hunk: these blatant displays of affection are both disturbing and adorable

(2:10) Shiro: Why are you all up?

(2:11) Keith: why are YOU up mister?

(2:11) Lance <333: Lance please give me my phone back.

(2:12) Allura: Shiro’s up because he said he bought us decaf coffee and guess what :))))

(2:12) Allura: It’s not :)))))))

(2:12) Shiro: I already said I was sorry!!

(2:15) Keith: ashakAJ382

(2:15) Keith: Sorry I just wrestled Lance for my phone back.

(2:20) Pidge: wrestled ;)

(2:22) Keith: Not like that you perv.

(2:23) Pidge: well we all know you “wrestled” together

(2:23) Keith: Wtf.

(2:23) Keith: How?

(2:23) Keith: Not that I’m saying we did.

(2:25) Hunk: oh yeah lance called me while he was sprinting to your house to have sex and i told pidge

(2:28) Lance <333: i did NO SUCH THING, hunk

(2:28) Lance <333: ix-nay on the ex-say

(2:30) Keith: Lance I hate you.

(2:31) Lance <333: you love me :)

(2:31) Keith: If you say so.


End file.
